


Maybe We're Better Off

by beefcakebuck



Category: Captain America, Marvel, SteveBucky - Fandom, the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Anxiety, Cuddles, Fluffy, Journal Entries, M/M, Post Civil War, Steve has a nightmare, bucky is in cryo, bucky just wants steve to keep him warm, bucky likes kissing steve, bucky wakes up, comic book clint barton, everyone is worried about steve, nervous Bucky, steve draws bucky, t'challa is a bro, violence but only in steve's dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-20 03:39:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12424287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beefcakebuck/pseuds/beefcakebuck
Summary: Steve has a nightmare that drives him to spend the night next to Bucky while he's asleep in cryostatis. He finds that he is unable to leave, too afraid of his dream coming true.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been writing this for so long and i feel like it needs to see the light of day, so i hope you enjoy and don't forget to leave a comment telling me what you think of it!

_He could hear his screams._ He has to be close, he has to be here _, Steve thought. He frantically looked in each door he passed, scanning the room for any sign of him at all, but each room was nearly bare, but he kept calling out for him even if the room he'd burst into looked completely vancant._

_Of course, his method of searching for him could get him caught and killed but he couldn't think further than where his mind was taking him. All he was focused on, all he could think about was getting to him, making sure he's alive and getting him out safely._

_So Steve continued busting down each door, scanning the room, calling out for him. This hallway seemed to stretch more and more the closer he got to the end of it._

_He kicked down another door and was met with blinding, bright lights and the sounds of tools clanking and monitors beeping and it made a new wave of fear wash over Steve's body. And then he saw him._

Bucky.

_Straps around his arms and legs, torso and thighs kept him still on an experiment table, metal arm detached. Stripped of all his clothing safe for a pair of black boxer briefs, Steve felt vile rise in his throat at the sight. Bucky's body was as pale as paper, replacing the usual tan skin. But Steve could barely catch glimpses of it with the amount of scary, crimson red blood splattered all over the poor, hurting man. Bucky was twitching and squirming, grunting and whimpering._

_Bucky screamed in agony when a man dressed in all black stepped closer to him and dug the sharp end of a tool into his pale, bloody skin, then drag it up or down to leave a deep, gaping cut. Bucky's scream rattled Steve's bones and made his chest tighten._

_"You're hurting him." He meant to yell, but his voice came out as a pathetic whisper. "Stop it, you're hurting him."_

_Steve was ready to bash anyone's head in if they so much as tried to get in his way, but when he tried to step foreward and begin to fight his way to Bucky, who was sobbing loudly and screaming even louder, he couldn't. He looked down at his feet and tried to move again but he was frozen in place._

_From behind him, someone kicked the back of his knees brutally, pushing him to the cold floor with a loud thud. He tried to fight them off when he felt hands grab his arms and pull them behind his body._

_The first time he saw Bucky strapped to a table like this, he helped him, got him out safe, but now? Now he can't even fight off a couple of guys to get to him._

_"Let me go," he tried to scream,"he needs me. Bucky needs me."_

_"There's no helping him now, Mr. Rogers. There's nothing you can do." A figure hidden in the corner of the room spoke and Steve's whole body shivered. The figure stepped forward to reveal his face, wrinkly with age. Alexander Pierce._

_Steve tried to pull himself from the grip he was held in, tried to dig up some strength from anywhere inside his stupid super soldier body but it seemed to be draining him even more._

_Pierce and a few other men stepped closer to Bucky and started pulling his hair so rough, his scalp was probably aching, gliding tools across his skin that sliced his flesh and made him bleed. Like they were playing some sick game and Bucky was a fucking toy. Their very own play thing._

_"Stop." Steve shook his head. He closed his eyes and let his head fall forward, hoping someone, anyone would come get Bucky off that damn table._

_"Not so tough now, are you, Captain?" Pierce asked. "The second you stepped into this room, you began to inhale a chemical filled with toxins designed. For you."_

_He stepped slowly toward Steve, his dress shoes loud in the now-quiet room. Pierce grabbed his hair and pulled his head back to look up at him._

_"You don't wanna miss this part." Pierce smirked as Steve tried to jerk away from his grip but it was useless._

_Pierce let him go but another pair of hands held his head in place while the other men stepped away from Bucky to let Pierce have his way with him. Steve could see the undeniable fear in Bucky's eyes, the rapid rise and fall of his bare, bloody chest. He could hear his quick breaths and his pleas and begging. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand seeing Bucky this way, so hurt and scared, especially when he's only a few feet away._

_Steve's vision blurred. He blinked to clear the water from his eyes, needing to see Bucky, even though he knew he'd be put in some kind of pain when Pierce was done looking for what he was looking for. He felt like if he couldn't rescue Bucky, he should at least be aware of what he's letting happen to him._

_Tears dripped down Steve's cheeks, he pulled and jerked and struggled against his restraints that were just a couple of men holding his arms behind him._

_"No! No!" He screamed, finally able to raise his voice._

_"Where's your Stevie now, Barnes?" Pierce asked._

_Bucky's eyes shot over to meet Steve's. They were wide and watery and it hurt so much to see. Steve could see in the dark blue around his wide pupils that he wanted so desperately for Steve to stop Pierce._

_"Bucky!" Steve screamed._

_Pierce picked a container of liquid salt from the selection of tools. Steve continued to struggle against the men holding him while Pierce tipped the container over the plethera of deep wounds scattered across Bucky's bare chest and arms._

_"Bucky, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Steve screamed, tears falling more rapidly._

_Steve flinched when Bucky cried out, trying to jerk away from the pain. The veins in his neck buldged and his hands squeezed the arm rests, cracking the plastic. Pierce did it again and Bucky screamed even louder._

_"No! No!" Steve screamed again._

  
"No! Bucky!" He yelled, shooting up from where he was laying down. His chest was pained and tight as it expanded and contracted with every heavy breath. His heart was beating roughly against his chest, sweat coated his entire body, but tears soaked his face.

He threw the thin sheet away from him and ran to the stairs, barefoot and shirtless. He needed to get to Bucky, he needed to make sure he was safe. He ran up the stairs and down the corridor in seconds, scanned his thumb and eyeball, spoke his full name into the voice monitor and the doors were open to Bucky's chamber. He sprinted to Bucky, not paying any mind to the doctors doing their nightly checks, he just needed to see Bucky's face, needed to be as close as possible.

He collided with the window of Bucky's cryo chamber and heaved large breaths of relief.

"Bucky." Steve breathed, choking up on his words as a new set of tears rushed down his cheeks. He rested his forehead onto the glass, not taking his eyes off of the sleeping man. Whenever his breaths would fog up the glass seperating the two men, Steve quickly wiped it away.

"Captain," a deep voice spoke behind him in a beautiful accent.

"I'm sleeping here tonight." Steve said sternly, already knowing who the voice belonged to.

There was a moment of silence and Steve quickly caught his breath. He could feel multiple pairs of eyes on him but the only pair of eyes he cared about were Bucky's and they were closed.

"Of course." T'Challa said softly. "I'll clear the room and deliver a few blankets and pillows."

Steve nodded against the glass. A breathy "thank you" was all he could say.

Moments later, the room was quiet, safe for the sound of the door unlocking and sliding open. Steve took his eyes off Bucky for the first time since he ran into the room to see who it was. It was T'Challa, holding a few neatly folded duvets with two fluffly pillows ontop.

"If you find that there is something unusual or out of the ordinary, ring me or one of the doctors down." He said, setting the blankets and pillows onto a nearby stool table. "I trust there will be no issues, but if there should be, one of us can be immediately contacted through this." He pointed to a screen on the wall.

Steve nodded. T'Challa looked at the Captain with sad, concerned eyes and it was like Steve could sense what he wanted to ask, but he didn't want to answer. Steve couldn't look at his sympathetic eyes anymore so he looked back at Bucky.

"We can talk about it in the morning." Steve sighed. T'Challa nodded.

"Goodnight, Captain." The sound of foot steps walked further and further away until the doors opened and locked once again and they were alone.

"You're okay, Buck." Steve whispered, but more to himself. "I'm not gonna let anything else happen to you. I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you, but it's over now. I won't let them get to you and mess with your head, that's all over now. Your suffering, it's over and I'm going to make sure of that, until I breathe my last breath."

  
Steve didn't sleep that night. It may be because he feels like he doesn't deserve to rest, but mostly because he's scared that if he takes his eyes off of Bucky for too long, something will happen to him that he won't be able to stop.

So he stays up, sitting at the stool table wrapped in a large blanket, staring at Bucky. After hours of sitting on the tall, wooden stool, he seats himself on the floor in front of Bucky, looking up at him. He shifts and sits beside the chamber and rests the side of his head against the cool window, occasionally looking up at his best friend. Mostly to reassure himself.

 

The morning sunlight filtered in through the large windows, dancing against Steve's closed eyelids. He wasn't asleep, not even close. The need to protect Bucky was rushing through his veins alongside his blood, keeping him awake. Sleep was not a priority whatsoever.

Steve looked up at Bucky again. He always looks so pretty when he's sleeping, but this was different. Probably because Bucky wasn't dreaming. Steve had been meaning to ask T'Challa if he'd be able to dream when he was in cryostatus, but it didn't seem like a very logical question and Steve isn't sure he really wants to know.

Nonetheless, seeing him this way didn't feel right, even if this was for Bucky's overall benefit.

The room door unlocks and slides open. Steve quickly stood up defensively, for his guard had not been put to rest since the second he woke up from that terrible nightmare. The sudden motion threw the duvet that was hung over his shoulders into a heap on the floor. He relaxed a bit when he realized it was T'Challa.

"Good morning, Captain." T'Challa greeted, while a man from his staff wheeled a cart behind him. The man did a slight bow, then turned to leave. Steve nodded politely. "I brought breakfast.

"I appreciate it, T'Challa, but I'm not very hungry." Steve said and he wasn't. His dream really upset his stomach. Steve hates that it did, especially since he's come across some pretty awful things and was able to get himself back to normal in a shorter time than it's taking him now.

"You must eat." T'Challa said plainly, pulling the cart to the stool table closest to Bucky. He began to set the plates onto it.

"Your mind is playing tricks." He said, tapping his index finger to the side of his forehead a few times. "It is making you believe you do not need food because you are so concentrated on something more critical at hand. It is making you forget. But if you are not going to be getting any sleep, it is appropriate that you put some kind of energy into your system. And if I have a say, it is going to be food." T'Challa smiled at Steve. He's very good at reading people and their patterns.

Steve let out a grateful sigh.

"Thank you, T'Challa."

"Come. Sit, eat." T'Challa motioned toward the chair across from him. Steve looked back at Bucky for a second, then sat across from the King. Steve couldn't help but crack a small smile when T'Challa uncovered the plates and revealed a simple egg, pancake, bacon, sausage breakfast.

"The chef thought a familiar and simple American breakfast would help ease your nerves, rather than an elaborate foreign morning meal."

"Remind me to thank him." Steve meant to say in a joking tone, but it came out more forced. T'Challa paid no mind to it and handed Steve a spoon, fork and butter knife wrapped in a napkin. He set another plate between them that held salt, pepper, syrup and butter.

They began to eat in silence. Steve ate slowly, T'Challa even slower because he'd look up from his plate every thirty seconds to watch the man across the small table. Steve shifed in his seat, feeling a bit uncomfortable and embarassed.

"Please stop looking at me like that, your highness." Steve mumbled over the mouthful of eggs, looking down at his plate.

"My apologies." T'Challa said softly.

Steve slowed his chewing, poking his fork in the large pancake drenched in syrup. He knows he has to tell him, he knows he can trust him, but he's realizing just how hard it is to talk about certain things out loud.

"I know why you have been here all night. I have not told the others, I know you do not want them to worry. You are welcome to stay as long as you need, but of course there will be tests run frequently to help him. We are making great progress with his full recovery. You may stay for those, if you wish." Steve nodded, thankful T'Challa spoke first.

"Captain." T'Challa said in a dangerously serious tone. It made Steve's stomach drop and his eyes look up to meet the other man's.

"I have dreams too. About my Father."

Steve stared at him. Hearing those words washed a sense of relief through his body. Knowing he's not the only one is always a good first step. He learned that from Sam.

"You do?" Steve asked. T'Challa nodded.

"I do. I dreamed of his death nearly every night since that day in Vienna for nearly a month. It was torture. There were nights I would force myself to stay awake to spare myself of the traumatizing feeling. Every once in a while, I will have a similar dream and in every one of them, I cannot move. I cannot get to him to stop what is going to happen. It makes me feel helpless." T'Challa's voice was strong, like he wasn't talking about seeing his Father die over and over again in his head.

Steve admired that about T'Challa. That he could be fighting wars and battles in his head but you'd never know unless he told you. And even then, you wouldn't believe him.

"The reason I am telling you this, Captain, is because I know what you are feeling. You are not alone. If you think no one will be able to understand, know that I will." There was a moment of silence before Steve spoke.

"It was Pierce." He said, looking everywhere but T'Challa's eyes.

"Director Pierce?" T'Challa asked but he sounded too sure for it to sound like a question. Steve nodded.

"He had Bucky. Had him strapped to a table and they were...they were hurting him. And I couldn't move. Some guys were holding me still but normally, I'd be able to overpower them if I really needed to, but... I couldn't and I had to watch Bucky be tortured and listen to him scream and--" Steve shook his head and covered his face, trying so hard not to cry again.

T'Challa was silent and understanding, letting Steve have a moment. When he woke up from dreams of his Father, all he wanted was some space and time to calm himself down, rarely seeking comfort from others.

"Does the feeling ever stop?" Steve whispered, running a hand down his face and through his painfully ironic bedhead. "Does it ever go away?" T'Challa smiled sadly.

"You will be the first to know when I find out. I am not quite there yet, Captain." He admitted.

Steve nodded, feeling a little silly for asking, when his Father passed away not too long before Bucky decided to go back under. T'Challa is only a few steps ahead of Steve.

"Steve," T'Challa said softly. Steve met his eyes.

"You are going to be okay. Bucky is going to be okay. I can promise you that."

Steve smiled but his eyes were sad and T'Challa understood, so he didn't push the subject. But now Steve knows T'Challa, a powerful and strongheaded man has experienced the same things as Steve and seems to be doing okay. They finished their meal in comfortable silence.

  
"Is everything alright, Captain?" T'Challa asked through the tablet on the wall Steve was using to call him.

"Yes, everything's fine. I was wondering if you could send someone to my room to grab a few things? I don't want to leave--"

"You do not have to explain, Captain. I will get a few of your things and send them down to you, yes?" Steve smiled at the soundwaves of T'Challa's words moving across the screen.

"Thank you."

  
Minutes later, a cart is delivered to the chamber and Steve accepts it gratefully.

On the first shelf of the cart is a large sketchbook, drawing pencils, erasers and colored pencils. Next to them, were a few of Steve's favorite books, a moleskin notebook and a camera. On the second shelf were two piles of neatly folded pants, shirts, socks and shoes. Steve grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants to put on.

The tablet on the wall chimed with a message and Steve walked over to it.

_King T'Challa: If there is anything you'd like delivered, do not hesitate to ask. And do not hesitate to put clothes on before the doctors arrive for Bucky's MRI at 12:30pm._

Steve chuckled softly.

  
Steve stood in front of Bucky.

 _He must be so cold_ , he thought.

There is no denying how pretty Bucky looks with snow falling around him and the day slowly shifting to night behind him, but he's always hated the cold. And now he's stuck in it.

Steve sighed, dragging his eyes along every inch of Bucky's body, admiring every last detail through the ice crystals scattered along the edges of the glass seperating the two men. His hair was clean and slightly wavy, falling to his shoulders. His scruff that made him look so ruggid and handsome. The scratches and cuts on the bridge of his nose and cheekbone. His eyelashes touching his soft cheeks.

But Steve just wanted to see his eyes. His pretty blue eyes that would look so striking and so bright next to the frost that's sprouted all across Bucky's body.

"Still look pretty, Buck. Still the best looking guy I've ever seen." Steve smiled, running his fingers over the window.

He sat down at the stool table and opened his sketch book to a clean page. Bucky was always a go-to when Steve wanted to draw. He knew Bucky like the back of his hand and the years apart could never change that. Steve could never forget the definition of his jaw or the shade of his eyes or the curve of his lips. So Steve drew what he saw; a beautiful, sleeping man in his cryo chamber.

Steve spent hours drawing a portrait of Bucky. He even lost track of time and forgot the doctors had another MRI scheduled for Bucky until the door unlocked and slid open.

"Good afternoon, Captain Rogers." A woman who looked to be in her early thirties greeted him with a smile. Her skin was dark and beautiful and her eyes were kind. "T'Challa said you'd be here. Will you be staying during his MRI?" She asked politely.

"Um, I think so. T'Challa said it'd be okay." Steve said, closing his sketchbook. He grabbed a hoodie from the pile of clothes and pulled it over his head.

"Of course, Captain. May we begin?" She motioned toward Bucky. Steve looked from her to Bucky for a moment before giving her a stiff nod.

"Just, uh. Just be careful with him?"

The woman nodded. A man pressed a few buttons and the chamber window lifted. A few more buttons were pressed and the cushions Bucky was rested against moved forward a bit, then turned horizontally. Two other men carefully unhooked the cushions and carried Bucky to the MRI table and laid him down, adjusting his arms and legs for his comfort.

Steve stood and watched over him as more buttons were pressed and the table Bucky was currently laying on started moving toward the large, round O. When just his head was inside the O, the table came to a gentle stop.

"An MRI when the brain is frozen is quite different from when the body is full functional." The same woman said as she stood beside Steve. She could sense his nervousness and she thought talking him through it would help.

"Today, all we need are a few scans of his brain. I suggested we use a more advanced piece of technology, considering Mr. Barnes is a super soldier and in cryostatis because I was convinced a simple MRI wouldn't get close enough to examine his brain properly, but the King reminded us that he is still mostly human and while our other brain scanners would work, an MRI can do the job just as easily." Steve cracked a small smile.

"T'Challa said progress is being made. Is that true?" Steve asked, keeping his eyes on Bucky.

"The King does not lie, Captain."

"I know, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disrespect him, I'm just worried." Steve rambled, crossing his arms.

"He is in good hands." She reassured softly. "In the upcoming MRIs, he will be thawed. The percentage of his thawing will be raised with each MRI to monitor brain waves little by little to ensure we don't miss anything so we can continue with his recovery process with as little issues as possible."

"Will he know?"

"I don't understand what you mean, sir."

"Will he know that he's being woken up?" Steve asked, his tone close to angry, because what if it makes Bucky feel trapped? What if it makes him feel like they're messing with his head like HYDRA did time and time again even after Steve promised he wouldn't let that happen, he-

"No, Captain." The woman answered. "His brain is not fully functional until a certain percentage, of which we will not reach. Anything that would be remotely harmful to him, mentally or physically, will not be done. We're making sure of that."

Steve sighed heavily, letting his broad shoulders loosen.

"Okay." Steve said after a moment, nodding. "Okay."

 

The moleskin notebook T'Challa delivered to him that morning came in very handy. Not to mention they were Steve's favorite kind of notebooks.

To pass some time and to help calm himself down, Steve thought it'd be a good idea to write a few journal entries while Bucky's asleep and give it to him when he finally wakes up.

  
_Saturday, 2016_

_It's almost evening as I write this. I've been here since, what? Three in the morning? Something like that. I woke up from an awful dream about you, Buck, and it scared me so bad it's nearly evening and I still haven't left yet. I've let so many bad things happen to you and I just can't let anything else happen. I just can't do that to you, not after all you've ever done for me and all we've been through together and apart._

_Your doctors came for another MRI today. One of them told me about your upcoming MRIs. You know they want to thaw you little by little every time they put you inside that machine? She said your brain won't be affected and you won't know you're being thawed at all, but what if you do? What if you wake up just a little bit and it's like you're stuck in a dream that you know is a dream but every time you try to wake up, you fall further and further away from it._

_It doesn't sound right but I just keep reminding myself of all the degrees T'Challa and his doctors have and it works sometimes._

_I miss you, Buck. I miss you so much. Every second that passes, I'm missing your bright smile and laugh, your warm hand and your cold one. I miss playing with your hair, rubbing my cheek against your stumble._

_I miss your eyes the most though. Your pretty blue eyes. I come in here often to get a look at you to get me through the day but it's never fully sufficient, because I never get to see your eyes._

_You'll be awake soon though, Buck, and I don't care if you get annoyed with me, I'm going to smother you so much when I can finally get my hands on you. I'm not going to let you out of my sight, I'm not going to stop touching you, even if it's just my hands on your shoulders or on your back, I just need to keep touching you._

_I'm going to take you to the Grand Canyon like you've always wanted. It's been, like, seventy years since the war has ended and you've still never been to the one place you've always wanted to go since your Pappy told you about it. We're going, Buck. I'm going to make sure of it and you can hold it against me._

_You look real pretty right now, Bucky. The sun is almost done setting and the sky is almost dark blue and the deep hue that shines in on you right now is making you look so beautiful, you look like you're glowing. As a matter of fact, I'm going to take a picture of you to show you just how beautiful you look to me right now, because you probably won't believe me. You'll probably say something like "Steve, I was frozen for God's sake, I know for damn sure, I didn't look pretty" and I'll just pull out this photo to shut you right up._

_I'm working on a portrait of you too. I'm going to finish it tomorrow and probably draw some other things. You know drawing is my gateway out of reality and it's been doing me some good while I'm in here with you._

_Before I knew you were alive, I drew you a lot. I drew you even more when I found out you were and Sam and I were looking for you. I can draw you just from memory and that's something you should be proud of, Buck. All I ever really want to draw is you._

_T'Challa says they're making progress with your recovery and I believe him, I just wish the process wouldn't take so long. And yeah, I know what you're going to say "you will never stop being stubborn and impatient" or something like that but I know that's just another thing you love about me._

_But really though, I can't wait to have you back in my arms again._

_Well I guess that's all for today, Buck. I'll probably write some more tomorrow, but until then._

_Your best guy, Steve_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a comment, if ya nasty. let's have some fun on twitter @beefcakebuck


	2. Chapter 2

Steve spends the entire night working on different sketches. He gets bored of each one before he even finishes it and flips to a blank page in the large sketchbook T'Challa sent down to him.

He hasn't touched the portrait of Bucky since he was interrupted for the MRI because he's worried that Bucky won't like it. He thinks Bucky won't want to keep it because it's literally a drawing of him frozen. So Steve concentrates on drawing Bucky outside of cryo.

By the time the sun climbs over the trees, Steve decides to go back and finish the drawings of Bucky scattered across the floor at Bucky's feet.

He starts by continuing the drawing of Bucky's side profile. His hair was short and combed neatly to the side. His smile was wide and bright. Steve carefully faded the drawing off just below the wing symbol on Bucky's left sleeve (which he drew almost perfectly, because he knew it'd get a smile from him).

On another sketch paper, he touched up a drawing of Bucky sitting at the bar during the war. In one hand, he's got a Tommy gun and a finger on the trigger. In his other hand, he's got a glass of scotch lifted toward his lips. They're quirked up into a small smirk, the kind that always had the ladies falling head over heals for him but he never paid them more attention than he needed to, because while his smile was aimed toward the beautiful dames on his arm, his eyes were trained on that skinny blonde kid across the dance floor, nursing a glass of whiskey.

The next drawing he chooses to finish is one of what Bucky looked like the day Steve found out he was alive. It was the second of three side profile drawings Steve had started. Bucky's hair was long, nearly passed his shoulders, messy and dark. His eyes were wide and alert, but his mouth was covered with the black face mask HYDRA forced him to wear to hide his identity.

Steve cracked a smile at the thought of HYDRA failing to keep Bucky's identity a secret from him, because Bucky's here now, away from the torture and brainwashing and drawing blood from people he never would have wanted to harm in a million years and he's safe as long as Steve's here, scratching out sketches of the man above him.

The drawing fades off at the same place as the last one, about mid-bicep. Steve has a bit of trouble drawing the plates and lines of Bucky's metal arm but after a few tries and looking up at Bucky, he finishes it. He's quite proud of how it looks, if he's honest.

Moving on, Steve narrowed his eyes at a drawing he had even more trouble with. Not a lot, but it was still a little tricky. It was of Bucky in his combat uniform; the one with the straps and leather and knifes in every pocket and guns strapped anywhere they fit. He's got Bucky in a bit of a squat position with a sniper rifle to his eye. Steve makes it look like Bucky's hair was moving in the wind and like his metal arm was shining.

This one takes him almost as long as he predicts the full portrait will take, because of all the details that go into the gun and the combat uniform and the metal arm. He finishes it though and sets it aside to continue the next one.

It's another side profile, but in this one, it's of Bucky right before he was put into cryo. He's got a white tank top on and Steve makes him look calm and soft, because that's what he saw that day.

Bucky was sitting on that table, breaking his heart as he told Steve he couldn't trust himself to do anything but go back under. So he draws him with scruff and a small smile, hair still to his shoulders.

Steve has to look up at the remainder of Bucky's left arm to help him draw it on paper and it makes him think about Tony. He feels awful for not telling him about his parents but he just didn't know how to say it. But all the sympathy he had for Tony was set aside when he channeled his anger and aimed it toward Bucky. Steve lost it. All this time he spent searching for Bucky so he could take him home, all the time spent fighting the accords, it all would have been wasted if Steve didn't stop him.

Tony would have killed Bucky, he would have killed the only person who truly knew and loved him before a scientist injected him with a serum that made his muscles big.

Steve messes up a bit while thinking about that so he took a deep breath while erasing the area to give it another try.

The last drawing before the portrait is a simple one of Bucky sitting, with his legs daggling off the side of the bed he's sitting on. He's got his white tank top on and a pair of white pants. Steve draws him with a beautiful, wide smile and sparkly eyes. They almost looked sad but Steve ignored that possibility as he drew the last touches on Bucky scruff and shoulder.

Steve sat back to take a look at the sketches. There were a few small sketches within arms reach so he took a look at Bucky, then proceeded to finish them up.

By the time he's done with all of the drawings except the portrait, it's well into the afternoon.

 _Almost five?_ Steve thought.

So he pads his socked feet over toward the tablet on the wall and requests a meal to be delivered to the chamber. While he waits for it to arrive, he sits at the table and looks at Bucky. He just looks at him and frowns deeply at the stillness and the ice crystals painted across the glass.

He's going to hate this portrait, he thinks.

Steve doesn't give the portrait another shot until he's finished his meal and sent the dishes he used back down to the kitchen. But when he gets that pencil in his hand as he sits in his usual seat on the stool, he's suddenly in a trance. He draws Bucky in the greatest detail he's ever done. So great that it almost looks like he's actually looking through a glass full of ice crystals at a man who's sleeping peacefully.

Steve parts his hair very slightly to the right because Bucky likes to throw it back and let it fall however it pleases. He draws Bucky's plush, pink lips he misses touching and kissing. Steve contemplates drawing the scratch on his cheekbone and the cut on the bridge of his nose. He decides to go ahead and include it, going with the whole "this is what I see" excuse.

He draws everything as he sees, not stopping until he looks over the drawing only to see that there's literally nowhere else he could press his pencil to shade in a bit more or darken a line or anything else. Steve exhales heavily, holding the portrait up to get a better look at it and sure enough, he's done.

He smiles at it, sets it down and takes a look outside. It's completely dark beyond the large window. Steve turns back around and fishes for his journal so he can write his next entry.

_Sunday, 2016_

_It's the second day I've been in here with you, Buck. Time passes quickly when I draw you, it always has. I've got so many sketches I can't wait to show you. You're always so supportive of anything I draw even when I know it's terrible._

_I remember when I first started drawing. I was so proud of it. What was it again? It was a cat or something, some animal I saw on the street and I decided to draw. When I was done with it, it looked nothing like what I saw and I was about to throw it out but you stopped me. You told me that it was "real nice" and that if I didn't want it for myself, you'd take it off my hands. You kept in on your wall, do you remember? Even when we grew up and you switched to another house, it was always on your wall._

_I think that was the moment I realized that I needed to get better, that I needed to be really talented, because I wanted you to look at me that way again. You'd get this look in your eye whenever I'd show you something I finished and you'd always compliment me, saying something like "you've got talent in ya, pal" or "the ladies like artsy guys" but I couldn't care less about the girls in Brooklyn when I had you to look at me with those eyes and that smile whenever I showed you another sketch or painting._

_I'm pretty sure you remember this, but writing it down is making me feel at ease and it's passing some time._

_I made a portrait of you. I still haven't decided if I want you to see it or if I should give it to T'Challa or something because I don't know if you'll look at me with that look in your eye like you normally do._

_How do I sound right now? I'm probably coming off like a whiney child, but the expression written on your face and the little sparkle in your eye makes me really happy. I'd do anything to get you to look at me that way._

_Anyways, do you remember all those times you'd drag me to some dance hall or bar whenever you wanted to dance? I still don't know why you always wanted me to tag along when you know I've got two left feet and I'm a terrible excuse for a dancer, even with practice._

_I never left the bar, but you were all over the place for a good few hours. I didn't even have to be jealous of all the pretty girls around you, begging to be your arm piece, because I knew you only had eyes for that scrawny punk sitting up on a bar stool, staring at you like nobody's business. It was a terrible habit, I could have gotten us caught, but we're still here to tell the tale about how you'd finally get tired of the crowd and politely excuse yourself to walk us home where you'd show me just how much those other girls didn't matter a single bit._

_Maybe when you're done here, we can go dancing. I might be better on my feet than back then. We can practice before we go, like we used to in the living room of our one-bedroom apartment. I promise I'll try not to step on your feet as much this time. But you have to promise not to make fun of me if I do. Then after a night of making a fool of myself dancing next to someone as in-tune with themselves as you are, Buck, we can come back home and you can show me how much the girls eyeing you don't matter. Just like you used to._

_I know the forties weren't welcoming to guys like us and we always had to hide and be careful of our actions until we were behind closed doors, but in a way, it still felt like freedom. It felt like if it was just you and me together, nothing else mattered. Maybe it was you. Maybe you were the one that made me forget about how much trouble we'd get in if we were caught. Maybe what we had made me free. Maybe you're my freedom._

_And if you try to look passed all the things we've gone through, maybe this century isn't so bad. Maybe when we're all done here, we can make it work. People are way more welcoming this time around. Ya know, about fellas like us?_

_Maybe we're better off._

_I know it's weird to say that, but maybe we weren't meant to live in the forties. Maybe we were meant to live now. I dunno. Anyway._

_I love you a lot, Buck. I know I always will even if the Devil decides to make you stop loving me, I'll always have a very special place in my heart for you, always._

_Until my next entry about how I passed the time waiting for you to wake up._

_Yours truly, Steve._

 

Steve spent the entire night exercising. He did 300 pushups (150 on his left hand, 150 on his right hand), 300 sit ups, 200 squats, 100 jumping jacks and another 200 laps around the chamber.

When he finished, he plopped onto the floor in front of Bucky. He looked up at him, breathing through his mouth. With the serum running through him, his breathing was quickly slowed to a normal pace. He felt like he could run another 200 laps around Bucky and still not be tired. So that's what he did; he got up and ran some more.

As he ran, he considered asking T'Challa if it'd be okay if he installed a punching bag in the corner of the room, but decided that'd probably be too much. He's not planning on staying here forever.

Steve suddenly stops running. Then looks over his shoulder at Bucky. Every time he thinks he's feeling better and comes closer and closer to believing Bucky is safe even when Steve's not around, his dream replays in his head over and over. The fear in Bucky's eyes, the helplessness in Steve, the mocking, the pain, the blood. So much blood.

Steve shakes his head quickly and starts running, faster than he was before because he has to stop thinking about this. He has to stop thinking about the look in Bucky's eyes when Steve was supposed to be saving him, when he was supposed to be changing that look from fear and pain to relief and gratitude. He has to stop thinking about Bucky's screams because of how much pain his body was enduring all at once. He has to stop thinking about all the dark blood that was dripping from open wounds that he shouldn've prevented in the first place.

Steve runs faster. He runs at full speed with his back straight and his elbows bent high. He inhales through his nose, exhales through his mouth, trying to focus more on his breathing. He tells himself he'll stop running when the images of Bucky's wild eyes, his mouth dropping in a deafening scream, and the many quartz of blood stopped popping up. But he ran and ran and ran, because they weren't going away.

Steve nearly crashed into the wall, but it sounded like he did, nonetheless, because he slammed his hands against it out of anger and desperation as he came to a sudden hault. Now he's really considering asking for a punching bag to be installed in here.

He let his knees buckle and hit the floor beneath him, breathing heavy. His head hung low, eyes squeezed shut. His large body shook with every breath. It was rage and sadness and fear all mixed up inside his body that he didn't know how to handle, let alone get rid of.

He stood up from the floor, slowly but surely. He walked over to Bucky and looked at his sleeping face.

That's when he realized he probably won't be leaving any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter three will be posted tomorrow!


	3. Chapter 3

When breakfast is delivered the next morning, T'Challa is tailing behind it.

"Good morning, Captain." The King said in his thick accent, with a warm smile. "I hope you don't mind that I join you."

"No, of course not." Steve said. The other man began to set the plates onto the table. The same table as the first time he and T'Challa had breakfast in Bucky's chamber.

"It is not eggs and bacon this morning, but a homemade breakfast pastry my father made me when I was a child." T'Challa explained, setting the table with utensils and condements. Steve tried to help, but T'Challa always got to them first.

"He made it whenever I was not feeling quite like myself. When I was having trouble with classes, I would find this meal the next morning on the table. If combat training was begining to be too much, he made this for me. Relationship trouble, aswell. Even when I'd keep to myself, he could always sense something was wrong."

"He sounds like a good man, T'Challa." Steve smiled a bit. T'Challa met his eyes with a thankful look.

"I hope you're in the mood for something sweet. My father created the recipe himself." T'Challa motioned toward Steve's plate for him to begin eating.

Steve looked down at the delicious-looking pastry. The sugar springled ontop of the light-golden outer layer seemed to shine like diamonds. Around the edges was a bit of powdered sugar. Steve took his butter knife and sliced a piece of the corner off and nearly gasped outloud when a beautiful red jam-like liquid slowly oozed out, leaving room to look inside. It was just a shade lighter than the outer layer, but looked so smooth and soft.

Steve laid a bit of the pastry across his tastebuds and immediately felt them begin to dance. He sighed, chewing the sweet, soft, sugary goodness.

"Wow." Steve mumbled quietly after he swallowed his first bite. He looked down at his plate in astonishment, for he'd never tasted something so deicious in his life and he's lived in New York.

"It makes you forget, does it not?" T'Challa asked, wearing a proud, accomplished smile. Steve nodded.

"It's very good, T'Challa, thank you. For sharing this with me." T'Challa nodded.

"How are you getting along?" He asked, cutting his pastry into pieces with a knife and fork.

"Fine." Steve shrugged. "I did a lot of drawing yesterday. It passed the time. Exercised last night."

"What did you draw?"

"Mostly Bucky." Steve said, taking another bite. "Well, actually, I drew nothing but Bucky. I got tired of seeing him like that--" he shifted his eyes toward Bucky "--so I drew him mostly outside of cryo."

T'Challa just nodded politely. Steve thought about his portrait and let a moment pass before he spoke again.

"If you were where Bucky is right now and someone took a picture of you or made, I dunno, a portrait of you, would you want to see it?" Steve asked. He knew he was being ridiculously obvious, but he didn't care. T'Challa looked up from his meal.

"Bucky was always the most supportive of my art after my mother passed away. It was always him I'd show first, because I wanted to hear what he'd say more than I wanted to hear what anyone else had to say. And now I've got this huge pencil drawing of Bucky frozen, of all things, and I don't know what he'll say or if he'll think I'm making fun of him or if he'll want to tear it up."

"May I see this portrait?" T'Challa asked, using the cloth in his lap to wipe his mouth. Steve nodded.

He rummaged through the few things he had near Bucky and retrieved his sketchbook. He handed it to T'Challa when he flipped through it and found the right page. He stood back and watched the King's eyebrows raise slightly.

"How long did this take you?" He asked.

"I'm not sure. A few hours, I think."

"Captain, this is quite beautiful. I am very impressed." T'Challa said, eyes scanning Steve's work. "I think he'll be happy to see some of your artwork after all this time and will look passed the fact that it is him in cryostatis and love the drawing for what it is; a masterpiece."

Steve definitely wasn't expecting that kind of a reaction at all. T'Challa handed him the sketchbook and Steve looked over it himself.

"Really?" Steve asked. T'Challa nodded. "You might be right. I'll think about it."

Steve tucked the sketchbook away and sat back down to continue eating the incredible pastry.

"When's Bucky's next MRI?" Steve asked.

"The doctor's and I have his next appointment scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. We have come a lot closer to finding the part of his brain that holds all of the things HYDRA left in him. I must ask before we proceed though, Captain, are you comfortable with the process? After yesterday's MRI-"

Steve doesn't hear that next part about the doctor he was talking to and how she told the King that Steve looked a little hesitant about the next few steps they wanted to take with Bucky's recovery. He was too busy feeling his body begin to tense up and asking himself if he was okay with that.

When he finally turned his ears back on, he hears T'Challa talking about why they need to wake Bucky's brain up.

"-brainwaves can bring us a bit closer to discovering the pockets of his brain that hold what we need to understand how HYDRA has been controlling his mind. Once we have an understanding of that, we will begin to understand how we can take it out of him, once and forall."

Steve takes a deep breath, his eyes dancing over his plate.

"I just-I..." Steve sighed softly. "I just don't want anything to happen to him, T'Challa. If you can ensure that he'll be completely safe, then... then I guess I'm okay with it."

"If there is anything unusual during this process, I will shut it down immediately and we will find a new method."

"Thank you, T'Challa." Steve breathes, letting his body relax.

He's definitely going to be there for this appointment. They continue to eat in silence for a few minutes before T'Challa speaks up again.

"Captain, your friends are asking where you've been." Steve stops chewing. "What do you want me to tell them, should they come asking again?"

Steve sighs. He knew they'd start to wonder sooner or later. So he says:

"Just tell them the truth." Steve says. "I'm not ready to leave."

_I don't know when I'll be ready to leave._

 

It's almost noon when Steve decides to pull out some of the books T'Challa sent up to him from his room a few days ago.

"What're you in the mood for, Buck? Never Surrender or Frankenstein? You're always in the mood for some Frankenstein, it's your favorite."

Steve got comfortable at a table across from Bucky and used his bookmark to open up to the page he left off on.

"We read this one together back in Brooklyn, before the war, remember?"

Steve found where he stopped reading and cleared his throat. He spent the rest of the afternoon reading to Bucky. While reading, he notices a few quotes and paragraphs that remind him too much of Bucky to ignore so he underlined them.  
Some chapters later, Steve closes the book and looks up at Bucky.

"That's enough for now, don't ya think, Buck?"

 

"How's he doin'?" Sam Wilson asked, crossing his arms loosely across his chest. He and T'Challa stood on the other side of the sliding glass door, out of Steve's view.

"He has not left the chamber since his dream. I have reason to believe he has not slept either." T'Challa says. Sam sighs, shaking his head.

"What has he been doing?"

"I had a few items delivered to occupy him. He has been drawing and writing a lot. Earlier, he was exercising and now he is reading." T'Challa motioned toward Steve through the window.

"It's like Bucky's in a coma or something."

"It is." T'Challa agreed. "Very much like a coma to Steve. Tell me, Sam, are you aware of the bond and connection between the Captain and Barnes?"

Sam nodded. If searching alongside Steve for two years for a man who may or may not remember him and watching Steve break through the guy's seventy years of training and brainwashing is anything to go by, he's very familiar.

"They're soulmates. I know that for a fact." Sam said. T'Challa smiled.

"That is why he is here. He feels he is responsible for the things HYDRA has done to him and is afraid such things will happen again."

Sam nibbles on his bottom lip, thinking. They watch Steve read his book to Bucky for a few minutes before a small, black device begins to float around the two men on the other side of the glass.

"What the hell is that thing?" Sam asked.

"That is a drone device. I designed it myself." T'Challa says proudly. "I send it in every few hours to scan Barnes, but I programmed it to scan the Captain the night he started staying here."

"What's it for?"

"Mainly to monitor Barnes. To make sure nothing has changed since he was put into cryostatis. But I have taken to scanning the Captain as well to monitor his body." Sam looks away from watching the device scan Steve to look at T'Challa, waiting for him to continue.

"The device can only see so much without touching a person's body. But from the scans, I have noticed unusual activity in his brain that can possibly be anxiety or depression. The Captain is also growing tired each night he does not get sleep. I am almost certain the he will brush it off if I mention to him what I've discovered. Super soldier or not, he needs rest or he will eventually crash."

Sam looked back at the drone, then Bucky, then Steve.

"He won't leave unless we make him." He said. "He's too stubborn and scared to do it on his own so we have to make sure he knows Bucky is safe here."

T'Challa nods. Sam is silent for a moment.

"I'll figure something out."

  
_Monday, 2016_

_T'Challa told me the others are asking about me. I told him to tell them I'm here with you, but I think they'll eventually come make sure I'm okay. And I am, I'm totally fine. It's kind of nice hanging around here, reading and writing and drawing._

_T'Challa made me breakfast this morning. He said it was his Father's recipe and that he made it for him whenever he thought he needed it. It was really delicious, Buck, you have to try it._

_I can't wait to show you all these new foods this century has. The pizza is even better now and there are so many different flavors of cookies now. It's gonna be great._

_I read Frankenstein to you today. Remember how much you loved that book? If you weren't at work or dancing or pulling me out of fights, you were reading that book._

_You know the schools these days use it in their Literature classes? Apparently it's a classic. It's funny how you and I read it all those years ago as leisure reading and now the students in this century are reading it for their English classes. I hope they appreciate and understand it as much as you do, Buck._

_While I was reading, I noticed that Victor's creation reminded me of you. If I said this to anyone who hasn't read the book, they'd think I was insulting you, but you'd understand. You'd know what I mean. If you read this book again after all you've been through, I think you'd agree with me._

_I went to a book shop with Sam once because he wanted to buy some new records. Near the record table there was a shelf labeled "classic collectibles" and on it was Frankenstein._

_The book was black with a red silhouette of Victor's house and white lightning streaks above it. I bought it, not for myself, but for you. I knew you'd like it._

_It's back in my apartment in New York, so I probably won't get it anytime soon but maybe I can order it online and have it delivered before you wake up._

_Well that's about it for today, Buck._

_Your punk, Steve_

_"Was man, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous and magnificent, yet so vicious and base?"_

  
Steve feels himself getting tired around four in the morning. It dawned on him that the last time he got any sleep was the night of his dream and he'd rather not re-live that again, so he got up from his spot next to Bucky and jogged around the chamber.

He didn't feel like reading or drawing or writing, but he needed to do something to keep himself busy. After a few laps around Bucky, he remembered the cool television set in the guest bedroom he'd been sleeping in and wondered if there was one in the chamber. He slowed his jog to a full stop in front of Bucky and gave his best guy a smile.

"You up for a movie day, Buck?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the bit about frankenstein being bucky's favorite book was entirely made up. it's actually my favorite book and i noticed there were similarities between the creation and bucky so that's where that came from.
> 
> leave a comment letting me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: a character in this chapter has an anxiety attack!

There's no television set in the chamber, but T'Challa has no problem sending someone to install one. A man dressed in white with a beautiful gold and black tribal design down the middle of his chest hands Steve a fancy remote, nods politely, then leaves without a word. Steve looks back at Bucky after watching the man leave.

He smiles, then presses a few buttons to lower the shades to cover the large windows. The screen is across from he and Bucky, so Steve sits down with a few snacks and a bowl of popcorn and aims the remote to choose the first film. He keeps a few lights on and is careful to play movies he hasn't seen yet, to make sure he doesn't loose interest and doze off.

The first film he decided on was one about war. He's hesitant at first, scared of how he'd react to a movie about one of the worst things anyone could go through. He went ahead and pressed the _play_  button anyway.

He guards himself the first fifteen minutes, then eases up when he openly scoffs at how poorly war is portrayed. Lots of friends are made, yes, that part is true. Making friends is one of the few things that keep soldier moving forward. But, sadly, not all of them live. There's a lot more blood, a lot more fear.

When the smoke finally clears and the screaming and shooting stops, there are a lot of sleepless nights and on the off-chance a former soldier does get some sleep, he's torn from his conciousness and rudely awakened by a nightmare. Sometimes they're memories, sometimes they're scenerios of what should have or could have happened. Steve can't decide what's worse.

Steve shook his head, as if to shake away the thoughts this movie brought and turned it off half way through. He chose another movie about Mars. He liked this one a lot better than the war movie because, even though he knows nothing about space travel, it makes sense, it's interesting and quite funny.

So Steve got comfortable and settled back against Bucky's chamber and finished the movie without thinking about war again.

Bucky would enjoy this movie, Steve thinks. He makes a mental note to wrap Bucky and himself in a comforter and watch this movie together.

  
Steve is in the middle of watching a movie about time travel when the door to the chamber unlocks and opens. Familiar faces pile in as Steve pauses the movie and stands to greet them. He nods and forces smile at the few that pass him, saying "good afternoon." His smile isn't so forced when he sees T'Challa.

"Good afternoon, Captain. Are you ready?"

Steve laughs at that, because no, he's not ready, but this isn't about him. It's about Bucky. So he just nods and steps back to watch the doctors set everything up again. It's different this time though. Steve feels more nervous than he did last time, but for good reason, he tells himself.

The glass around Bucky is lifted like before, but this time, two men dressed in white - much like the man who installed the television set earlier - stepped toward him. One carefully connects wires to Bucky's forehead, while the other keeps them in place using clear medical tape.

Steve watched them closely, making sure they don't pull Bucky's hair or jerk his head too harshly, but they're nothing but gentle and it would've eased his spiking heartbeat if they weren't about to wake his brain up.

When they step back, the glass closes around Bucky again and two drone devices begin floating around him, scanning every few seconds. Steve nibbles his bottom lip.

 _Relax, Steve, just relax_ , he tells himself.

T'Challa handles the defrosting and for that, Steve breathes a sigh of relief. Steve wouldn't have trusted anyone else with the task.

He watches him flip switches, pull levers and type a few things before the thawing began. Steve held his breath, eyes flicking between Bucky's still body and the very slowly increasing percentage on T'Challa's monitor.

He can't feel it, it's not hurting him, Steve repeats to himself.

The thawing stopped. The percentage on the screen rested at _15%_ next to a few other stats on Bucky's vitals. Below it was a green word: _stable_. Steve let himself breathe again, but it took more effort than normal.

The process of the MRI is the same as the last one. The only difference is that Bucky is _15%_ more awake than he was before. Steve tried to ignore the rapidly increasing thumps against his chest and tried to concentrate on Bucky. But his heart kept racing. His chest and stomach began to feel tight and even though his heart was so obviously working, he found it hard to breathe. Steve sat heavily onto the nearest chair and clutched his chest with one hand, trying his best to inhale from his nose and exhale from his mouth, like Bucky taught him all those years ago.

 _Inhale, exhale. In and out, Steve_ , he thought, but he heard Bucky's voice. He heard Bucky's soothing voice in his head, encouraging him to relax his body, close his eyes and concentrate on his breathing.

"Captain?" T'Challa's accent rung in his ears.

Steve waved him off and held his hand to his chest.

"I'm okay, T'Challa, keep going." Steve said as steadily as possible.

The King knew the Captain was most definitely not _okay_ , so he set his things down to assist him. Steve held his hand up toward T'Challa and shook his head. When he fixed Steve with a concerned look, Steve said almost desperately,"Please."

Steve knew that if he made T'Challa stop, he'd ask him not to continue with the MRI and he knew the King would respect his request and the number on the screen would go right back to _0%_ , so he just nodded at the King with sad smile, still clutching his tight chest.

T'Challa looked at a doctor and said something in Wakandan before she quickly retrieved a bottle of water and rushed to his side. Steve nodded at him one last time before the other man reluctantly got back to work.

The doctor opened the bottle and handed it to Steve, keeping her hand close to it while he took large gulps.

"Deep breaths, Mr. Rogers, deep breaths." Her soft voice said.

_What's going on? Why is this happening?_

Steve kept his eyes on Bucky while gripping the doctor's hand as she dabbed a cool cloth over his face and neck.

Every few minutes or so, she'd say something along the lines of "Mr. Barnes is okay, he's safe" and "concentrate on your breathing" but Steve didn't hear her. He couldn't hear anything. There was pulsing in his ears, everything was moving in slow-motion.

The MRI seemed to go on forever, but somewhere in the middle, Steve's breathing slowly evens out and the tightness in his chest and stomach subsides. The pretty, young doctor stays with him and continues to hold his hand and run the cool cloth over his heated skin and tilt the water bottle when she wants him to take another sip. He's grateful for her.

It confused the hell out of Steve, because when his heart is racing for whatever reason, it's only a matter of seconds before his serum kicks in and corrects it. So what was that? What the hell was that?

When the procedure is finally over and the men and women begin to clear out, Bucky's back behind the glass and the number on the screen reads _0%_ again.

"Are you alright, Captain?" T'Challa asked. Steve takes a deep breath.

"That was... a lot harder than I thought it'd be." Steve said, rubbing a hand against his chest.

The woman took the two empty water bottles she helped Steve drink and was about to be on her way, but he caught her wrist.

"Thank you." He said simply. She smiled kindly.

"Of course, Mr. Rogers." Then she was off.

"Is there anything you need?" T'Challa asked, concern still present in his brown eyes.

"I think I just... I think I just wanna be alone. Ya know, to clear my head. I'm feeling kind of claustrophobic."

T'Challa nodded and reached out to squeeze Steve's shoulder.

"Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Drink more water and be sure to order a meal when you get hungry." He said, then turned and trailed behind the rest of the doctors who were making their way out of the room, the drones following.

Steve rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands, telling himself not to cry. He's never had the urge to cry this often for as long as he can remember and he feels pathetic for it. Feels pathetic for being so emotional but it's _Bucky_ , for crying out loud. The only man Steve has ever had eyes for, even when very few girls showed him attention, it was always Bucky he wanted.

Steve sat up and wiped the few tears that went against what he was telling himself and slipped down his flushed cheeks.

  
Steve pretended that that part of his day never happened and resumed his movie marathon with Bucky. When he finished the time travel movie, he watched one about a man stuck at sea and another about an aspiring drummer with a nutcase professor.

When he got tired of movies, he clicked on a TV series Wanda and Clint told him about. It's about a group of friends who live across the hall from each other and what they go through everyday, whether it's their love lives, their jobs or their family issues. By the time he finished almost every season of the show, two heavy meals are eaten, the snacks and popcorn are gone, the sun is beginning to rise over the trees and Bucky is still asleep.

Steve pulled out his journal and stayed huddled in his pile of blankets to write his next entry.

_Tuesday, 2016_

_It's day four today because I didn't write last night. I got caught up in a few movies and a show I was watching. You'd probably like them, Buck. One of them was about a man who got left on Mars and survived a really long time up there by himself before he was rescued. I know how much you like space and things like that so we'll watch it together soon._

_Have you ever watched Friends? It's this hilarious sitcom about a group of friends and what goes on in their lives. I'd imagine you'd like the characters Chandler and Monica. We'll watch that too when you're out._

_I'm really looking forward to having lazy days with you, Buck. We can sit up in bed with a bunch of blankets and the snacks I mentioned in another entry that you've never had before. I'll even play with your hair if you ask nicely. I'm kidding, I'll probably play with it either way. I'll have you close against me, feeling you breathe while we pig out and "binge watch" (is that what Wanda calls it?) mind numbing movies and shows until we finally fall asleep curled into each other._

_You had another MRI today. They thawed your brain 15% and continued like normal, but something happened that still confuses me when I think about it. My chest and stomach got really tight and it got really hard to breathe. A woman was talking me through it but I couldn't hear her or anything for that matter. I got really hot and I could barely think, my head was so cloudy, so I just kept looking at you._

_I haven't thought about it until now, but everyone around me was probably looking at me, wondering what in the world my deal was but if they asked me, I wouldn't be able to tell them._

_I remember being asthmatic all too well to know that what happened earlier was not an asthma attack. It was damn near close though. Asthma or not, the serum usually helps any breathing trouble I have. I thought maybe it was wearing off but that's almost impossible, right? Maybe I'll have T'Challa run a few tests or something._

_Remember all those times you helped me through my asthma attacks whenever I was out of my medicine? I was out of medicine more often than not, but that's not the point. The point is, I heard your voice in my head, reminding me to relax, reminding me to breathe. I'm not saying I miss you treating me like a hospital patient, but the words you said a thousand times helped me through whatever the hell was going on with me. So, thanks, Buck._  
_With love, Steve_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i used my own personal experience with anxiety to write this chapter!
> 
> leave a comment letting me know if this broke your heart like it broke mine to write it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listen to music while i write and while i wrote this chapter, i listened to sad piano music and it broke my heart even more when i wrote steve's entry for this chapter. leave a comment letting me know if this entry broke your heart too.

The sound of the sliding door unlocking and opening jolted Steve from his light slumber. He whipped his head toward the entrance only to see Sam. Steve sighed and leaned back against Bucky's glass window.

 _How long was I out?_ he thought, glancing up at the digital clock on the wall that read _11:43am._

"I scare you?" Sam asked, one side of his mouth tilted upward. Steve chuckled.

"Not at all." It was a lie that was supposed to come off as a joke but it fell flat the second it slipped from Steve's lips. They both knew.

"What're you doing here?" Steve asked.

"Just wanted to check on you." Sam asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He wore a snug, faded gray shirt and a pair of black shoes.

Steve pealed himself from the cocoon of blankets he was nestled in on the floor and ran a hand through his messy, blonde hair.

"I'm fine." Steve said, sitting at one of the tables. "How are the guys?"

"A pain in the ass, man." Sam said, sitting across from Steve. "Feels like I adopted three grown ass kids."

Steve chuckled softly, looking down at his hands. He missed them.

"They're worried about you, though." Sam said.

"You guys really don't have to worry, Sam, I'm just not comfortable leaving yet, okay? I don't know if T'Challa told you about the dream but it was bad and I just can't shake it."

Sam just nodded, not quite knowing what to say. There's a moment of the two men looking at each other in silence. Sam looked like he understands, but there's something he's trying to say. He sighed.

"Steve, I gotta tell you something." Sam said. Steve remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"You know those little robots T'Challa has flying around all the time?" Steve nods slowly.

"They kind of reminded me of Redwing." Steve attempted to smile. Sam chuckled.

"Just not as cool, right?"

"Right." Steve says half-heartedly.

"So anyway, yesterday, during the MRI, one of them scanned you, because it detected an increase in heart rate. T'Challa thinks it was an anxiety attack."

Before Sam could even say another word, Steve's already shaking his head. If Bucky were here, he'd purse his lips and jab Steve for being a stubborn piece of work then kiss him on the mouth, but he's not, so Steve says:

"No, I don't think that's right-"

"Steve." Sam's eyes are serious, so Steve closes his mouth.

_Anxiety? Was it really anxiety?_

"He just summed it up, but he told me that he's pretty sure that's what happened. Said it's different for everyone. He noticed you got sweaty and kept clenching your fists and you wouldn't look anywhere but Bucky. He doesn't know about anything other than what he saw himself obviously, but-"

"My chest." Steve said suddenly. Sam eyebrows furrow slightly. "It felt like a ton of bricks were just laying on my chest. I got really claustrophobic during and afterward. And I couldn't think or hear, my eyes were just zeroed in on Bucky and I could hear his voice it my head, talking me through it like he used to talk me through asthma attacks like-"

"Like a guardian angel?" Sam said. Steve met his eyes.

"Yeah." Steve breathed. "Yeah, something like that, actually."

Sam's eyes were only a little sad, because he knows Steve will give him a hard look and say something like:

"Don't look at me like that, Wilson. I'm not dying."

Sam laughs, shaking his head. Steve smiled, feeling the intensity of the moment lighten up.

"But what about my serum?" He asks.

"Apparently, it would have lasted twice as long if it weren't for your serum. He told me to tell you that he'll be stopping by so guys can talk about it."

Steve nodded.

The digital clock on the wall read _4:45pm_  on the dot when T'Challa finally comes. Sam left around _12:30pm_ , with a "by the way, how do you still smell good after not showering for like a week?" Steve only chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Captain." T'Challa greeted, holding a closed laptop in his hand.

"Your highness." Steve replied.

"Did Sam come see you?" He asked, sitting at the table Steve was sketching bodies, hands and eyes. Steve nodded.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Quite." T'Challa nodded, not needing Steve to explain what he meant.

"How does the serum not prevent it?"

"It does its best. See, anxiety isn't within your muscles or cells, it's in your brain and while the serum also enhances your mind, there is only so much it can do. During your anxiety attack, your serum worked toward getting your heart rate back to normal and resolve any other physical issues. Were there any that you remember?"

"Uh, my chest and stomach felt tight. I told Sam earlier that it felt like there was a lot of weight resting on my chest. My stomach, though, it felt more like a cramp or an ache."

T'Challa opened his laptop, typed a few things, then looked back up at Steve.

"And concentration? Was it hard to focus?" He asked. Steve nodded.

"I could only concentrate on Bucky, like he was the only person in the room. All I could see or hear was Bucky. I barely realized your doctor was helping me until I started to calm down."

T'Challa nodded and looked down to type some more. It made Steve think of all those times after he woke up from the ice when he'd go to the doctor and have to wait a few seconds while they wrote everything down as he talked. He didn't like it. It made him uncomfortable.

"How can I make it stop?" Steve asked.

"There is no specific way yet, Captain. Each person experiences anxiety differently and each have different methods to help with it. Some take medication, some exercise or write it down. Many things, but I doubt you'd want to be medicated when you could just get proper rest and go from there."

"What?" Steve asked, eyebrows furrowing.

"I don't know the full extent of you serum. I don't know the specifics of Erksine's work, but from experience, like I said, the serum can only do so much. Half of the healing and enhancements is the serum but the other half can start with proper rest, diet and self care."

A moment passes.

"I am not saying you need to leave. It may be better if you do, though. If you bathe and sleep in a bed. I am doing what I can to see what there is I can do about your anxiety but until then, you'd have to get some rest. A result of many anxiety issues is lack of sleep and massive amounts of stress. Tell me, Captain, when is the last time you got any sleep?"

Steve looked down at the sketches on his paper that look too much like Bucky's body, hands and eyes to be anybody else.

"Take this." T'Challa said, sliding the laptop across the table. "Do your own research and see for yourself. Please keep in mind what I have said, but inform yourself a bit more."

Steve looked up at T'Challa and nodded. The King smiled and stood up to leave. Steve looked down at the laptop.

_It's going to be a long night._

"I will be back sometime tomorrow. I am going to need to ask you questions and run some tests."

Steve looked up at him, feeling almost... defeated. He just nodded and looked back down.

"I'll be here."

Steve spends the entire night researching anxiety. He learns what can trigger an anxiety attack, things that can help calm someone down during. He watches videos of doctors talking about it, people sharing their story and how they overcame it.

He even found an article with a list of famous people who have anxiety. Most of the names were unfamiliar but the few he recognized couldn't have anxiety. Could they? But then again, he didn't think a super soldier like him could have anxiety so he sighed and continued scrolling through the unfamiliar actors and artists until he found someone he knew.

As he scrolled, he came across a picture of handsome young man with round glasses and a few freckles scattered along his cheeks and nose. Beside the photo was "Sir Robert Bryson Hall II. Better known as LOGIC." His face wasn't familiar but his name was.

Sam Wilson listens to a lot of music and not a lot of it is rap music, but whenever he's in the mood for some "quick talking and hard beats" as he calls it, he turns to Logic. Steve remembered working out with Sam a few months ago, listening to this so-called Logic. Steve asked about him, as he did about a lot of new artists these days and Sam gave him a bit of his background.

"the guy's like twenty-five or something like that. He's married, bi-racial, didn't graduate high school. He's a good man, you'd probably like him."

Steve remembered just nodding as he stacked weight after weight so he can bench press beside Sam.

He unhooked the tablet from the wall, brought it back to the table with him and messaged Sam.

_Captain Steve Rogers: Did you know Logic has anxiety?_

While Steve waited for a reply, he clicked open another tab and googled _"logic anxiety"_ but before he could even press _enter_ , the tablet chimed with a response from Sam.

_Samuel Wilson: Yeah man. He wrote a whole song about it. You should give it a listen._

Steve typed a simple _okay_ and pressed send before returning to the laptop.

He found links that opened Youtube videos of Logic speaking about his experience with anxiety. Steve stared at the man on the screen and listened, connecting more with a man he has never met before than with a man he used to work with every single day.

Steve watched thirty minute videos of Logic speaking in detail about his anxiety attacks and what happened to him and why it happened to him and what kind of life he was living at the time and where he is now and Steve was impressed with how far he'd come.

It's not until four in the morning does he start to accept that he probably does have anxiety and that he probably should do something about it.

A few hours later, while Steve is eating a bowl of cereal, the tablet on the wall chimed with a message. He took his bowl with him to check it.

 _Samuel Wilson: Hey man, wanna meet for lunch? Wanda and I found this great restaurant not far from here. Let me know_.

Steve sighed, glancing at Bucky.

He wanted to. He really wanted to. But he didn't.

He felt pathetic for being afraid to leave. He felt pathetic for feeling like if he so much as went to lunch with his friend for a few hours, Bucky won't be safe.

He decided that it won't be fair to himself or Sam for him to go and be able to think of nothing but Bucky, so he reluctantly ignored Sam's message and sat back down to finish his breakfast.

 

The next day, the familiar chiming of the tablet pulled Steve from one of the sketches he was working on. This one was from Wanda.

_Wanda Maximoff: Clint and I are watching Friends if you want to join us in the movie room._

Steve considered it, he swears he does. The tablet chimed with another message.

 _Wanda Maximoff: Clint promises he won't fall asleep on you like that time we tried to watch_ _Two Broke Girls_.

He smiled at that, thinking back to Clint resting his head on his arm. Wanda had taken a picture when she could stop shaking from laughter. He put up a front, pretending he was a little annoyed by it, but truthfully, he didn't mind very much.

Wanda had the photo of Steve with his arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on his face while Clint snoozed away on his bicep. She had it on the wall in her bedroom back at the compound.

He wanted to. He really wanted to. But he didn't.  
  
One look at Bucky and his decision was made. So he sat back down and tried to continue the drawing of Bucky he'd been working on for an hour now.

 

The following day, Steve was in the middle of a jog around the chamber when he recieves a message.

_Scott Lang: We're all planning to get together for a movie night. If you're not too busy, we'd love to have you there.(Me especially, you're my favorite but don't tell Sam that.) You can even pick the first movie if you want._

Steve smiled a bit, then frowned deeply.

Steve wanted to. He really wanted to. But he didn't.

Instead, he picked up his elbows and continued jogging for the next hour.

 

Steve was looking out the large window when the tablet chimed yet again. It was a message from T'Challa this time.

_King T'Challa: Progress is being made with Bucky's recovery. We may only need a few more MRIs._

Steve smiled and sighed heavily, something in his stomach flipping.

 _Not much longer now_ , he thought.

The tablet chimed again.

_King TChalla: Have you thought about what I said, Captain?_

Steve looked down, guilty. Of course he's thought about it. Of course he wanted to get some actual rest in a comfortable bed and take a nice, hot shower. And he absolutely thinks about the next time Bucky has an MRI and he thinks about the number on T'Challa's screen reaching _20%_ and he thinks about what happened last time and what might happen this time and he thinks it'll be worse, if what T'Challa says is true.

"The King does not lie, Captain." He remembered the beautiful, dark-skinned woman saying during Buck'y MRI.

Steve sighed again and for the first time in days, he let his fingers press a few letters, then press the _send_ button.

Across the building, in the King's wing, his tablet chimed with a message.

_Captain Steve Rogers: Yes._

 

_Saturday, 2016_

_The guys keep asking to hang out. I keep ignoring them. I don't know how I don't have the heart to tell them no yet I have the heart to leave them unanswered. What kind of person even does that?_

_I'm tired. I miss sleeping next to you, Buck._

_Back before the war, when I was a scrawny punk with nothing but skin and bones, you always kept me warm. Sometimes you rested too much of your body on me, but I tried not to complain because I loved having you so close to me._

_Nights I especially remember are the ones where you'd notice I had a bad day down at the diner or the newsstand or where ever I was working at the time, so you'd make me a nice dinner. Well, as nice as you could with the limited amount of food we had, but I never cared about._

_After we ate, you and I would squeeze into our tiny tub. I would have never admitted it back then, but it was always easy for you to convince me to sit in your lap, because I actually really liked it._

_Sometimes you'd have my back against your chest or, more often, you'd place me, facing you, between your legs and throw mine around your waist. Then you'd rub soap all over my body until I was almost asleep against your shoulder or your chest._

_And after fighting you a little bit, I'd let you dry me off and you'd be so gentle, it broke my heart. You'd massage my head with the towel after running it along my whole body. When we were both dry, you'd push me against the counter, hold my face in your hands and kiss me. These kisses were always soft but so firm and they were all I needed to encourage me to start another day._

_We'd kiss for what felt like forever, but every time you'd pull away, it felt like it wasn't enough, because I always leaned in for more. Sometimes you didn't want to stop either so you'd pick me up and wrap my skinny legs around your torso and carry me to our bedroom, where you'd lay me down and kiss me all over._

_If I wasn't relaxed enough after our bath, this sure did the trick. I would always be close to falling asleep when you'd lick or suck a certain spot and I'd be at full awareness, arching my body toward your hands and mouth._

_After you'd get me to finish two or three times (never knew how you'd get me to go so many times at once, especially with the way my body was back then), you cleaned us up as gently as you did when we were in the tub and we went to sleep._

_Sometimes you'd pull my body on top of yours so I could use your body as my bed, sometimes you'd rest your head on my chest with your hands wrapped around me. Other times, you'd lay on your side, nuzzling your nose into the back of my head, pulling me as close as I could get. I liked to be facing you though, so I could kiss you easily._

_On days you'd come home from the docks or the grocery store particularly frustrated or tired, I'd take your hand after supper and lead you to the bathroom._

_I will never forget those nights, Buck. I will never forget them because they were the nights that it was just you and me, Steve and Bucky. The nights we reminded each other that as long as we had each other, everything would be okay._

_Unchangingly and most fondly yours, Steve_

 

"Steve?" A soft voice whispered. "Wake up."

Steve groaned softly, blinking his eyes open, but just barely. They felt heavy and swollen. He groggily sat up and saw Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott. Each were sitting at a chair around the table.

"I was asleep, wasn't I?" Steve asked, rubbing his eyes.

"A little bit." Clint said, holding his thumb and pointer finger close together.

"Dammit." Steve mumbled, looking at Bucky. He's still there, he's still safe.

The ache in his heart started flooding through his body from when he finished his last journal entry. God, he missed Bucky so much.

"What're you guys doing here?" He asked.

"We missed you." Wanda said simply with a smile and a slight tilt of her head.

"You look like hell, Cap." Scott patted Steve's shoulder.

"You look like you could use a cup of coffee. Or like, five." Clint said.

"You've got spots under your eyes." She pointed out, running her thumb below Steve's eye gently.

"Guys, I'm fine." Steve gently batted her hand away.

"Yeah, we know, man. Just lookin' out, is all." Clint said.

Steve looked at Sam.

"Did you call for an intervention or something?" This earns a chuckle from him.

"Kind of." Sam said. "You haven't answers any of our messages so we thought we'd just come up here and tell you what we thought up."

"And what's that?" Steve asked, resting his chin in his hand sleepily.

"Well, we all know you probably haven't slept more than a few hours since you've been here and we want that to change. So we all agreed that if you go sleep in a real bed and take a real shower, we'll take turns staying here with Bucky." Sam explained.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but Sam continued.

"You can use one of the bootleg Redwings to see what's going on if you start getting worried or something."

"T'Challa has this pill that you can take to help calm any energy you have and it does something to your brain that helps you sleep and prevents you from dreaming." Wanda said.

"Dunno why he'd have that on-hand, but anyways." Clint said. "If it makes you feel more comfortable about leaving us with him, I can bring my arrows when it's my turn."

Steve looked at them one at a time. Read their expressions, thought back to their capabilities. He considered for a few minutes, thinking about how exhausted he was and how sleep could probably help with this supposed anxiety. He thought about how vicious the group of people sitting in front of him can be when provoked and how hard they fought beside him to protect his best guy. He thought about Bucky.

"We just want the best for you, man." Sam said. "It's been like ten days, Steve."

"Don't you miss your bed?" Wanda asks innocently.

I miss sharing it with Bucky, Steve doesn't say. He nodded instead.

Steve looked at Bucky for a long minute.

He wanted to. He really wanted to. So he does.

"Okay." He said just above a whisper. "I trust you guys. Plus, I gotta do something about these bags, right, Wanda?" Steve pointed to his under eyes and smiles, earning happy sighs and excited smiles.

They agree to let Sam have the first day. The following morning, Steve will come back, the day after, Wanda, then Steve, then Clint, then Steve, then Scott, then Steve.

It takes a bit more encouraging but in the next hour, Steve is back in his guest bedroom. He ignored how guilty he felt and made sure a drone was on his bedside table, playing live footage of Bucky sleeping. He took two pills T'Challa delivered and collapsed onto the queen-sized bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the logic song mentioned in this chapter wasn't released for like another two years but just work with me here. the bit about him having anxiety is very true!
> 
> "steve stared at the man on the screen and listened, connecting more with a man he has never met before than with a man he used to work with every single day." yes, he's talking about tony.
> 
> let's hang out on twitter, friends @beefcakebuck
> 
> LEAVE A COMMENT THEY MAKE ME SO SO HAPPY


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ADDED MORE TO CHAPTER FIVE, PLEASE READ THAT SO YOU'RE NOT LOST OKAY LOVE YOU BYE

After connecting his phone to a small speaker to play music, Sam sat at a stool table across from Bucky, reading a newspaper. All the other newspapers he found were in Wakandan, but Scott picked this one up for him yesterday when he saw it was in English.

Reading a newspaper and listening to music reminded him of his life back in D.C. He wouldn't say it was better, but it was far less complicated than his life now. But he didn't really mind.

Sam looked up at Bucky, asleep in his cryo pod.

He's never seen Steve behave this way, for anyone. Steve has told him so many stories about his life with Bucky before the war, countless things they've gone through together. It helped Sam understand why Steve was so determined to find Bucky and bring him home, but he cant pretend to know what Steve is feeling, what he's going through, all he can do it support him and hope he comes out okay on the other side.

Hours passed of Sam reading his newspaper and novel, while listening to music from his speaker. Eventually he got bored and his eyes started wandering around the chamber room.

They fell on Steve's things, piled on to a cart. Sam walked over to it, hoping he'd find something to occupy himself with.

A sketchbook, camera, clothes, two novels and a notebook.

The sketchbook had a bunch of loose sheets with sketches and sharpie pen drawings of Bucky. The camera was nearly empty, holding only a few pictures of Bucky in the same position: asleep. _Never_ _Surrender_ and _Frankenstein_ , Sam had already read so he put them aside. Only the moleskin notebook was left.

Sam picked it up and flipped to the first page.

Reminder: Give to Bucky when he wakes up.

Sam's eyebrows furrowed slightly before he flipped through the pages, catching glimpses of words on each page.

_Buck. Sleep. Touching you. Buck. Scrawny punk. Buck. With love, Steve._

_Oh_ , Sam thought as he flipped to the page after the last entry Steve wrote.

_I know you're looking, so write an entry while you're here. - Steve_

Sam laughed and grabbed one of Steve's pens from the cart and sat down with the notebook. He looked up at Bucky for a moment, then began writing.

_Sunday, 2016_

_Hey, Barnes. It's Sam._

_This is kind of weird for me, I haven't written a letter since my tours. Don't really know what to say, so I'm just gonna wing it._

_I didn't make that wing joke on purpose, by the way._

_Steve's really worried about you. His heart's in the right place though, it always is. I swear that dude is never in the wrong. Sometimes it sure as shit feels like it though. That is, until he proves himself, which he always does._

_You got yourself a keeper, Barnes. I'm real glad we found you (yes, I helped). I didn't know it was possible for Steve to become a better man, but you made it happen._

_The guy's stupidly in love with you, it's almost annoying. You should see the way he looks when he talks about you, it's like you hung the stars and the moon or something._

_But anyway, I'm happy you're safe. I know how much you mean to Steve and how much you've been through with those HYDRA assholes. If you tell anyone I said this, I'll deny it._

_You're really important to him, Barnes. Remember that._

_Sam Wilson_

_P.S. you owe me a new car_

  
Wanda sat on the floor in front of Bucky' pod, using her powers to make Steve's clothes dance around the room. She made it look like they were reading, then drawing, then writing.

She giggled to herself, looking up at Bucky, wondering if this would make him smile.

When she got bored of making Steve's clothes move, she used her ability to fold them back up and set them back on the cart along with the rest of his stuff.

She stood up and looked at Bucky, shoving her hands into the pockets of her burgundy bomber jacket.

It made her sad seeing him this way. They didn't know each other very well, but she still had a heart and she knew enough about Bucky to want to protect him as best she could.

She rested a few fingers on the glass, immediately feeling the cold against them. She clinked her rings against the glass a few times, sighing.

"I wish you weren't behind this glass. No one deserves that." She said softly.

She stood back, letting her hand fall from the glass. Looking back at the cart, she remembered Sam telling her about Steve's notebook and decided to write an entry of her own.

So she sat on the floor, facing Bucky this time. She flipped to a blank page, making sure not to read anything Steve wrote and began to write.

_Tuesday, 2016_

_Hi, Bucky. Wanda here. I'm the one with the red flare coming out of her hands. Oh, I'm also the one who stopped T'Challa from clawing you neck. He feels bad for that, by the way._

_It's my turn to watch over you today. It's getting pretty lonely in here, I don't know how Steve did it for so long. But then again, he had you, I suppose. He's doing better now, if you're wondering. We got him to get some rest and now we're taking turns staying with you._

_It makes me sad seeing you behind that glass. We don't know each other very well, but it feels like I have known you. Maybe in another life we were best friends or something. I like to think about stuff like that._

_I think you kind of got two lives in one lifetime, isn't that cool? It may not be how you would've wanted it, but that's how reincarnation works, I guess. You don't get to choose, but you get to make the best of it. I think that's beautiful._

_Writing about this makes me wonder where Pietro is now. He says he'd like to be reincarnated as a woman, because he thought being a boy got boring._

_Pietro is my twin brother. He died a few years ago in Sokovia. Steve says you would have liked him. He was my soulmate, my best friend, my person._

_Now that I think about it, that's almost exactly how Steve describes you._

_I think one of the reasons I'm helping Steve and helping you is because I couldn't help Pietro. I couldn't save him, keep him safe, but I would have done everything in my power to do so, like Steve's doing for you._

_Did you know the color black represents mystery and fear? And aggression too. Steve said the first time he saw you after the ice, you were wearing nothing but black and every time after that, it was still black._

_And now you're wearing white. White represents innocence and purity. It represent faith and safety. And most of importantly, freedom._

_We're going to help you through this, no matter what. We want you to be free._

_Vision says they'll never stop being afraid of me. But he's a damn fool if he thinks that'll stop me. Don't let it stop you, Bucky._

_Yours truly, Wanda Maximoff_

_You can't control their fear. Only your own._

 

Clint promised Steve he'd bring his arrows when it was his turn to stay with Bucky. They were sat in the seat beside him while he drank from a large mug that held coffee, bit into a few slices of pizza and flipped through his small stack of comic books. It wasn't easy to find anything in English in Wakanda, but when he and Wanda found these at a bookshop in town, they grabbed the lot.

When he got through literally all of his comic books, he had finished his coffee and pizza, so he took out his small suction arrows and started shooting them onto the glass window behind him.

Kate gave these to him when she noticed his interest in them. He had so many different kinds of arrows and he was astonished with himself when he realized he didn't have any of his own.

"How could I possibly not have _suction cup arrows_ , Katie? Who am I?" He had said, while playing with her's.

He chuckled when he remembered he accidentally shot one onto her butt. She was pissed, but she pulled it off the back of her jeans and threw it back at Clint.

When he plucked them off the window a few times, he turned around and shot them onto the glass of Bucky's pod. Clint thought it'd be like tapping the glass off a fsh bowl and freaking out the poor fish, but T'Challa said Bucky wouldn't even know.

So he shot his suction arrows against the glass arund Bucky as lightly as he could, aiming them toward various parts of his body.

Suddenly, the tablet on the wall chimed with a message from Wanda.

_Wanda Maximoff: Don't forget to write your entry. You can read mine for inspiration._

Clint groaned softly. He'd forgotten about the sisterhood of the traveling moleskin notebook.

_Clint Barton: Fine. But you have to bring me some more comic books, I read them all already._

_Wanda Maximoff: Okay, Barton, I'll bring you more comics._

Clint smiled, picked up the notebook and began to write.

_Thursday, 2016_

_Yo, Barnes. Hawkeye here. Or better known as Clint, the guy with the exploding arrows._

_Wanda's making me do this. I don't really know how to write letters. I've never been good with words, but I'll do my best because she says you're going to read it when you wake up._

_Man, there is no WAY this letter is going to top Wanda's, how is her's so good?_

_A few year ago, when Steve told me that he was looking for you, he referred to you as his best friend. Said you were in trouble and that he needed to help you. I thought "well okay, man. Do what you gotta do, Cap."_

_Then he called me after I told everyone I was retired and explained that you were framed and that they were trying put you in jail. When I say "they" I'm thinking of mostly Tony, that guy might have some issues._

_I remember Steve saying "will you help me, Clint? He's my best friend."_

_And I was like "of course, dude. I'm on my way."_

_You know why? Because he would've done the same for me if I needed his help keeping my best friend safe. Her name is Kate Bishop (the other, less cool Hawkeye. Okay, that's a lie, she's way cooler than me). She's been with me for as long as I can remember. She hardly ever needs me to make sure she doesn't get hurt, but when she does, I'm there._

_So when Steve called me, asking me to help him protect you, it was pretty much a no-brainer._

_(That means it took no mental effort to make this decision. Sam says you're behind on the 21st century lingo.)_

_Also, dude, have I ever told you that your arm rocks? I know you probably aren't that fond of it but from an outsider's point of view, it's pretty sick. Is it the kind of metal that you can stick magnets to? Like fridge magnets? That would be so cool._

_The better, cooler Hawkeye, Clint Barton_

  
Clint put the notebook back where he got it and sent a message to Wanda.

_Clint Barton: I'm done, now bring me some comics._

_Clint Barton: Oh and some more coffee, please._

Wanda had laughed from her room and did as she promised and brought the rest of the comic books to Bucky's chamber for Clint, along with a fresh cup of coffee. He convinced her to stay with him and they sat at the stool table, reading together.

  
The next day, when Steve was reading the rest of _Frankenstein_ , T'Challa walked into the chamber.

"Captain, I have wonderful news."

Steve closed his book as T'Challa sat next to him.

"I will admit I was a bit weary when I cancelled the rest of Bucky's MRIs in which we defrosted him, but it turns out we did not need them anymore." T'Challa explained.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, hanging on every word that came out of the King's mouth.

"I know how to fix Barnes." He smiled.

Steve's eyes widened, exhaling deeply.

"What? Really?" He asked, his mouth stretching into a wide smile.

"Yes, Captain." He continued, opening the binder he held, showing Steve a picture from Bucky's MRI.

Everything in the picture was blue or black, except for something red that looked like a nerve that went down the middle of his brain, branching off into three parts on either side.

"What is red is what HYDRA put in his brain. We've studied this extensively and found that this is what blocks any previous memories from surfacing and helps train and sculpt him. It was hidden well but after defrosting him 10%, we found it. We've scheduled a surgery for tomorrow morning."

Steve listened intently, nodding every few seconds.

"Can you remove it?" Steve asked, drying his palms against his sweatpants as they had become sweaty.

"Yes." T'Challa smiled. It made Steve feel so much better than he has in the past few weeks.

"I have controllable drones the size of ants that can easily slip in and out of his head. The drones can be used to detach what HYDRA put in him safely and will not harm Barnes should they run out of life while they're working."

"But that's unlikely, right?"

"Right." T'Challa reassured.

"This was physically placed inside his head by man, so with proper tools and patience, it can be safely removed, without effecting any other part of his brain whatsoever."

Steve took a deep breath, sitting back a bit. This was really happening right now. T'Challa was really saying these things. All at once he felt a knot rise in his throat and endless amounts of appreciation for T'Challa.

"Thank you." Steve said over the knot, lip quivering as he prevented himself from crying. "Thank you so much, T'Challa, thank you."

  
The following day could not come fast enough.

Bucky was taken to a surgery room in another part of T'Challa's mansion. Before the surgery began, Steve and the others were allowed to see him one last time.

Sam went first. He crossed his arms, looking down at Bucky as he lay in the surgery bed. He smiled softly.

"You're almost there, man. We'll be right outside when you wake up."

He left the room and Wanda replaced him.

"Hi, Bucky." She said softly, raising her hand to slowly rest on his shoulder, then against the scruff on his face.

"I'm so excited to officially meet you. We all are. The family isn't complete without you, so you better hurry and wake up already." She laughed softly.

With a small sigh, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to Bucky's cheek.

When it was Clint's turn, he stood over Bucky awkwardly.

"I dunno what to say, Barnes. Just make sure you get out of this okay, alright? Steve needs you."

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of his suction arrows. He placed it on a nearby table, then looked at Bucky.

"For good luck. See ya soon, man."

Scott walked into the room with his hands in his pockets, swaying slightly as he looked at Bucky.

"Big day, huh?" He said.

"I really hope this goes well. Steve's really fond of ya. Hang in there, buddy."

Then it was Steve's turn.

He could feel his heart beat faster with every step he took toward Steve's bed.

Touching him like this was weird. Bucky was always so warm and comforting, but now he was almost freezing cold.

"This'll change in a few hours, Buck. You'll be away from this cold in no time, okay?"

Steve cleared his throat quietly, wrapping his hand around Bucky's.

"I'll be right on the other side of this wall when you're done. Me and the guys, we're not going anywhere."

Steve knelt beside his bed and ran his fingers through Bucky's hair, removing a few knots.

"This reminds me of all those times you'd sleep by my bed when I was sick. I can count on both hands how many times I was close to dying, Buck."

Steve chuckled softly, looking down at Bucky's hand in his own.

"You're in good hands, Buck. You're gonna be alright. Everything is gonna be alright."

Steve held Bucky's hand to his mouth and kissed it softly, before putting it back on the bed at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love writing these letters, man.
> 
> let's be friends on twitter @beefcakebuck
> 
> LEAVE A COMMENT I LOVE THEM SO MUCH


	7. Chapter 7

The wait was excruciating.

They waited hours upon hours, not hearing a damn thing from the inside, which made Steve even more antsy and nervous. Was everything going as planned? Was Bucky safe?

The others did their best to distract him.

Wanda ran down to her room to retrieve _Card Against Humanity_. After teaching Steve how the game worked a good four times (again), they played for about two hours. Steve's picks were always a little serious, while the game was supposed to be silly, but his friends knew he wasn't really in the right mindset. He continuously got answer cards that reminded him too much of Bucky like "amputee" and "genetically engineered super soldier" and "the screams...the terrible screams."

Sam gave him a pair of noise-canceling headphones when he decided he didn't feel like playing anymore after picking up a "memory loss" card. He made sure to play songs Steve didn't know, so he'd feel at least a little compelled to concentrate on the lyrics. Steve stared out the window of the hallway, eyes unfocused, nibbling his plump bottom lip.

An hour passed of him listening to music. He'd occasionally stand up and pace up and down the area they were waiting in.

When he took the headphones off, the others looked at him, ready to assist them as best they could. He sighed at that. At needing them so much, needing them at all.

"Can one of you guys grab my things from the chamber please?" He asked. Sam stood, nodding.

"Sure, man." And then he was off, walking down the hall.

Steve sat back, looking out the window again. It was a bit of a gloomy day. The gray clouds were clumped together, hiding the sky.

How appropriate, he thought.

He thought about Bucky and how much he liked the sun. He thought about Bucky telling him he was like his own personal sun when the clouds got in the way. Will he remember telling him that when he wakes up? Will he remember curling up together on rainy days, kissing and teasing until the world outside their apartment completely melted away.

"What are you thinking about?" Wanda asked, scooting closer to him.

"Bucky." He said simply, trying to make shapes out of the clouds.

"Good things?" Clint asked, straightening up from the laying position he had along the chairs.

Steve shrugged.

"I guess so. The clouds outside reminded me of how much he liked the sun. He hates the cold. I always, uh, liked the way he looked during the winter though." Steve explained, still staring out the window.

"What'd he look like?" Scott asked innocently from where he was leaning against the wall.

Steve smiled a bit, looking down at his hands, then back up at the darkening clouds.

"I don't know, I guess it's just the way winter makes people look. His lips would be chapped so he'd lick them over and over. Red ears and nose. Snow in his hair." Steve smiled wider, trying to imagine winter with Bucky in the future.

"How'd you guys stay warm?" Wanda smiled with her chin in her hand and her elbow on her knee.

"Bucky was my source of heat during those days." He laughed. "My body didn't produce very much body heat back then so I'd pretty much use him to keep me warm. Even before we realized our feelings for each others." Steve explained, using air quotes over the word "feelings."

It felt childish to talk about the way he felt about Bucky that way. It wasn't some crush or a fling, they were soulmates. Steve liked to think they were literally made for each other, considering how their brains work together as one and how the could sense whenever something was wrong with the other.

"The guy ever get annoyed?" Sam asked, returning with a few things in his hands. He handed Steve his stack of books and his pens and pencils. Steve shook his head.

"He always said we evened each other out."

And with that, the conversation ended as Steved flipped open his moleskin and began a new entry.

 

_Saturday, 2016_

_You're in surgery right now. T'Challa came to me yesterday and told me he knew how to get HYDRA out of your head for good. You should've seen the look on my face when he told me, Buck._

_It's been a few hours since they started working on you. There's no window to see the surgery room. T'Challa said it'd be best for me, after my episode during your MRI. Smart move._

_The guys are distracting me. We played a game called Cards Against Humanity, Sam let me listen to his music, we talked about you and now I'm writing about it._

_It's about to storm, which reminded me how you and I would pass the time whenever it rained. It was so annoying when you wouldn't let me leave the damn apartment when it rained, telling me I'm "a few steps away from catching another case of pneumonia, knucklehead."_

_I always preferred to be inside with you anyway, I just liked to pull your chain. I remember we'd just curl up on our bed kissing and talking. I remember feeling like it was just you and me again, just Steve and Bucky, because the world felt so far away. I cherish the nights we'd just let the world pass by._

_I told the others how much you didn't like the cold, but how much I liked you in it. The grumpy look on your face during the first snowfall always made me laugh and you'd call me a punk from the bedroom window. And when there were layers of snow on the ground when we walked somewhere, you'd mumble under your breath about the "stupid crunching" under your boots._

_I love the way you look during the winter, Buck. How your lips would get chapped because you kept licking them even after I told you you'd regret it later. How you'd get all bundled up in your coats and wear that scarf Ma made you one Christmas. You even tucked your pants into your socks._

_I used to draw you in the snow so often. You picked up more hours at the grocery store so I didn't have to stand outside in the cold, selling newspapers. You said I'd "freeze with a pape' 'bout people freezin' ta death still in yer hand." So I'd lay out in front of the fire and draw to pass the time. It was always you with piles of snow behind you, wearing your scarf and coats and flakes of snow in your hair._

_So I can't say I minded the cold. Not as much as you did. Most of the memories I have of us during the winter are those where you kept me warm when you got home from work, sitting by the fire while you read and I sketched, and you badgering me to wear multiple pairs of socks and to tuck my pants into them._

_I'm looking forward to more winters with you. I probably won't need your body heat as much as I used to, but you better believe I'm still going to use you as my blanket._

_I'll see you soon, Buck._

_Your scrawny punk, Steve_

  
Steve closed the notebook with a smile on his face. Excitement was flowing throughout his super soldier body, thankfully outweighing his nervousness. Bucky was going to be awake soon and Steve was going to kiss that face and he could barely wait.

He took out his sketchbook and started drawing Bucky in each season.

  
It's been _nine hours_.

Steve's nerves were slowly returning the longer he waited. He couldn't help but wonder if anything was going wrong and that was the reason it was taking so long. Sam and Wanda assured him that brain surgeries usually take this long and that he had nothing to worry about, especially when T'Challa was the one in charge.

He finished his drawings of Bucky in the summer, fall, winter and spring. Clint sat beside him and asked to see some more of his drawings. As he flipped through his sketchbook, the other sat around him, admiring his work and striking up different conversations with each turn of the page.

Then he heard T'Challa's voice calling him by his rank.

His head shot up so fast he would have given himself whiplash if there wasn't a serum running through his body. He stood to his feet, handing the sketchbook to Clint who took it from where he sat, eyes on T'Challa as well.

"Is he okay? Is everything okay?" Steve asked, the tightness in his chest returning.

"Everything is okay, yes." T'Challa nodded. "The surgery was a success. It ended an hour and a half ago. I did not inform you because I knew you would want to see him straight away, even if he was still resting."

"So nothing went wrong? Is he awake yet?" Steve asked. Wanda stood to her feet and held his sweaty hand in attempt to calm him down.

"Nothing went wrong. What HYDRA put in him was successfully removed. And yes, he is awake." T'Challa smiled a bit. Steve let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes for a moment.

"May I see him? Is he ready for that?" Steve asked in a softer voice, squeezing Wanda's hand a bit.

T'Challa nodded and looked back into the room he came from.

"Sergeant Barnes? Whenever you are ready."

Steve's heart was in his throat now, beating faster and faster from the anticipation.

He heard a few soft footsteps and he knew they were Bucky's socked feet walking closer. The door opened again and Bucky stepped out.

He wore a small, nervous smile on his lips. He changed into a gray hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants. Steve's heart did a back flip at the sight.

"You miss me, punk?" Bucky asked.

Steve let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and laughed, shaking his head.

"Every second, jerk." He said, walking toward Bucky, pulling him in for a tight hug. They breathed each other in, running their hands along each other's backs, gripping the clothes they had on. Bucky only had one hand, but it was enough.

"You're so warm, Buck." Steve whispered against Bucky's neck.

They stayed like this for a while, just holding each other. Just being with each other.

When they finally let go, they smiled at each other, then laughed, playfully pushing the other.

Steve stepped to the side, resting his hand on Bucky's lower back like he used to, letting the others say their hello's.

"Hi, Bucky. I'm Wanda." She said with a friendly smile, stepping closer to the other man. "It's nice to officially meet you."

"Hi, Wanda." Bucky smiled, letting her wrap her arms around his neck for a quick hug.

When she stepped away, Clint took Bucky's hand and shook it.

"Great to have you back, man. I'm Clint." He said, giving his arm a light slap before he let go.

"Thanks, Clint." Bucky said.

Clint stepped away and Bucky looked at Sam.

"Hey, Bird." Buck said, holding his hand out for him to shake. Sam laughed, accepting it.

"What's up, man?"

"Steve cry at all while I was asleep?" Bucky asked playfully, glancing at Steve.

"Oh, you have no idea, dude." Sam laughed.

The last one to greet Bucky was Scott, but he hung back nervously, like he did when he met Steve for the first time.

"Don't be rude, Tic Tac, say hello." Sam nudged Scott until he was in front of Bucky.

"Hey." Scott breathed. "I'm Scott. Not Tic Tac. But you can call me that, call me whatever you want."

Scott shook his hand twice, then gave Bucky a hug and a few pats on the back.

"You're awesome, man." He nodded as he let go and walked back to his corner.

They all laughed.

Steve took Bucky hand in his own and Bucky squeezed it.

"Steve, can you do me a favor?" He asked.

"Yeah, Buck, anything." Steve said.

"Can you say the words? Do you know them?" He asked. Steve's whole body tensed, the others stayed quiet.

"No, I don't know them. But-"

"I need to know for myself, Steve. I just-" Bucky sighed.

Steve looked at T'Challa, who nodded. He knew the words would be useless, trusting his work.

"Would they work if you said them yourself?" Wanda asked from behind Steve. Bucky shook his head.

"Can you repeat them after me, Steve?"

Steve swallowed, silent for a moment. He eventually nodded.

"Are you sure about this?" He asked. Bucky simply nodded.

"Okay. But you should know my Russian isn't very good." Steve smiled, Bucky chuckled.

"That's fine."

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's torso, caressing his back, while the other man rested his hands on his upper arms.

"желание." Bucky said softly, staring into Steve's eyes.

Steve repeated the word as best as he could.

With each word, his grip on Bucky tightened, feeling for any tensing or shaking. But Bucky was completely calm and still by the time Steve repeated the last of his trigger words to him.

"How do you feel?" Steve asked cautiously.

"I feel fine." Bucky said breathlessly. "I don't feel anything."

Steve smiled, pulling him a bit closer.

"I'm free?" Bucky asked quietly, voice cracking, causing his best guy's heart to stutter.

Steve smiled widely, bringing his hands to either side of Bucky's face.

"You're free, Bucky."

Bucky made a sound of disbelief and almost lunged forward into Steve, pressing his mouth against his in a desperate kiss. Steve held him closer, kissing him slowly and softly and sweetly, reveling at the taste he'd yearned for all these years.

Steve's team smiled at them and at each other as the two men shared their first kiss since the war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS IF YOU WANT ME TO CONTINUE THIS, i have more ideas on how i can continue this.
> 
> twitter: @beefcakebuck


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took longer than usual, i got a little busy, but here it is!

T'Challa pointed out that it'd be best if Bucky wasn't surrounded by so many people his first day out of cryo, so Steve's team said their goodbye's not long after they said their hello's.

Blood was drawn from Bucky, questions were asked about how he felt, eye and reflex tests were done. Steve was there the whole time.

His heart would flutter whenever Bucky would look up at him from the tiny flashlight or the needle in the crease of his arm and give a close-mouthed smile. It felt like a secret, his smile. Like he was only sharing it with Steve because he trusted him. Steve would of course smile back, he couldn't do anything other than that, not when Bucky was finally awake, finally looking at him with those eyes that he's gotten lost in so many times and smiling at him like his secret was his fondness for Steve.

God, he was so in love with this man. So head over heels, clumsily, stupidly in love. And if Bucky didn't know it, Steve was going to continuously remind him.

Once Bucky made it through the last of his tests and told the doctors all he felt was a bit of wooziness, a chill in his spine, a slight headache and hunger, T'Challa put his clipboard down and extended his hand toward him. Bucky stood up from where he was sitting and took his hand gratefully.

"It is nice to have you warm again, James. Welcome back." T'Challa said.

"Thank you, your highness. For everything." Bucky said softly, his voice expressing nothing but gratitude toward the King.

The King smiled and nodded once.

"It was the least I could do." He said before releasing Bucky's hand.

"Be sure to request a meal with the chef. I know you are hungry and I've taken quite a lot of blood. Steve will probably accompany you." T'Challa said. Steve stepped forward, nodding.

"Yes, he will." He said, going to hold a hand to Bucky's back but retreated. "Are you okay with that, Buck?"

"'course I am, Steve." Bucky said, eyebrows scrunching so slightly Steve almost missed it.

Steve smiled and let his hand gently hold the back of Bucky's neck, running his thumb back and forth over the skin there. He noticed Bucky sigh softly and loosen his shoulders.

  
"What are you hungry for, Buck?" Steve asked once they made it to the kitchen area of the mansion. It was almost like a restaurant with tables scattered across the large, lit room, a bar to the far side and the entrance to the kitchen on the other side.

Bucky shrugged, making Steve smile. He missed his mannerisms. He memorized them before the war, but they've since become foggy parts of his brain. But Bucky was jogging his memory, as Steve was jogging his.

"I dunno. I'm just hungry." Bucky chuckled. Steve had to stop himself from reaching over the table to sweep Bucky into another kiss. He didn't want to overstep. He didn't want to overwhelm him.

"How does pizza sound? Maybe a burger? Fries?" Steve listed.

Bucky's stomach growled softly and he held his hand over it, mouth becoming dry at the thought of foods so delicious.

"Can I have all three?" Bucky asked without thinking, but Steve immediately nodded, jotting down his requests to give to the chef.

"What do you want on the pizza? Have you had pepperoni in this century yet? It's delicious and I know you like meats." Steve said, getting ahead of himself.

"Maybe next time. Just cheese for now. T'Challa says nothing too heavy, ya know?" Bucky said.

"Right, of course." Steve said, writing. "And for your burger? Plain?"

Bucky unknowingly ignored his question and smiled at the way Steve let his tongue run over his lips slowly as he concentrated on what he was writing.

"I remember that." He said. Steve looked up, confused.

"Remember what, Buck?"

"Watching you draw and paint. That tongue thing you do when you're concentrating. It...it always made me wanna kiss you." Bucky said almost shyly, giving a half smile.

Steve smiled so softly, it was Bucky's heart that did backflips this time.

"Plain is fine." He said suddenly, looking down at the white table cloth.

"What's that?" Steve asked, before realizing. "Oh, right."

"And I don't care how the fries are made." Steve nodded, jotting that down as well.

"I'll be right back, okay?" Steve said, standing.

"I'll be here." Bucky smiled, but it seemed forced.

Steve didn't point it out and went to the kitchen to give the chef the list instead. Bucky exhaled deeply, rubbing his hands against the fabric of his sweatpants over and over.

He's already counted all the exits and windows (two and four), tables and chairs (twenty three and ninety two), addressed what can be used as a weapon (everything).

"Chef says it'll be done in twenty minutes." Steve said, emerging from the kitchen.

Bucky's head snapped toward him the second he heard the door opening.

"Great." Bucky said. "I feel like I haven't had a proper meal in ages." He joked, but it was true. His meal before he went into cryo wasn't even one for the books. T'Challa had him eat a nutrition bar and drink a cup of water. The King said something about it staying in Bucky's body for so long.

"You don't gotta worry about not eating anymore, Buck. There's so many things I'm looking forward showing you, the food is so much better now." Steve said with a smile. "At your own pace though, of course."

Bucky tilted his head slightly, eyeing Steve curiously. The man across the table bit his lip, refraining, once again, from stealing a few kisses.

"Yeah." He said. "Sounds great."

A moment passed of the two men just looking at each other. It wasn't awkward or weird, just...comfortable.

Before Steve could speak up about how much he missed him, Bucky spoke first.

"So what kept you busy while I was asleep?" He asked, running his fingers through the strands of hair on the right side of his face, pushing it back. Steve wanted to do that for him. He wanted to hold his hair back as he kissed him and whisper sweet nothings into his mouth.

"Well, we explored a lot of Wakanda. Not like anything I've seen before. Got lost a lot in this mansion. Caught up on a lot of movies and shows, courtesy of Wanda and Clint." Steve chuckled. Bucky smiled. Heart flips in both chests.

"Anything else?"

Steve just looked at Bucky, wondering if he should tell him.

"What's that look for, Rogers? You cryin' over me while I was asleep?" Bucky laughed softly until Steve's body tensed up slightly and his eyes saddened.

"I was only joking, Steve, I didn't-"

"No, no, it's okay." Steve interrupted. "It was just...harder this time, I guess."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, eyes softening at the sight of Steve's body language changing.

"Um, I kind of-"

"Wait, can you-" Bucky sighed, bunching the fabric of his pants. "Can you come closer? I feel like you're miles away."

Steve nodded and migrated from the other side of the small table to the chair right beside Bucky.

"Good?" He asked.

"Closer." Bucky said simply.

Steve scooted his chair closer until he was about a foot away from the other man.

 _Still too far_ , Bucky thought.

"Is this okay, Buck?" He asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, Steve, it's okay." Bucky said.

Why does he keep asking? If he's okay with this, if he's okay with that.

"What were you saying?" Bucky asked, slowly turning his broad body to face Steve fully, knees coming in contact with Steve's thigh. At the gesture, Steve did the same, nestling his knee between Bucky's.

Bucky smiled down at their legs, letting himself give in to the little bit of warmth Steve's body gave off. Bucky wanted more, wanted to feel Steve's whole body against his, but instead of saying so, he met Steve's eyes and read a silent question. Bucky almost rolled his eyes this time, but nodded, trying to see Steve's concern as endearing.

"A few weeks after you went under, I had this nightmare. I've had nightmares before, especially after the war, but this was different. You were...being hurt. Right in front of me. And I couldn't do anything to stop it."

Bucky watched Steve's mouth move, then the sadness and embarrassment in his eyes become more evident.

"So I went to your chamber to make sure you were okay and spent the night there. The next day, I just couldn't bring myself to leave. I wanted to make sure you were safe."

A moment of silence passed.

"Why did you think I wouldn't be safe?" He asked.

"I knew you were safe, that's the thing. I just needed to _make sure_. The dream was so bad and I felt so guilty about everything you've been through that I needed to make sure nothing bad would get to you." Steve explained, glancing down at his hands, then back at Bucky.

Bucky's mouth slowly lifted into a small smile, rolling his eyes a bit.

"I see you're still a giant dramatic romantic." Bucky said, letting out a soft chuckle. Steve let out a sigh of relief.

"Can't say I'm not disappointed that nothing happened, I would have loved to hear more stories of you defending my honor."

"Oh, trust me, Buck, there will be more in the future."

They both laughed.

"Thanks for lookin' out for me, though, Stevie." Bucky said.

Steve huffed a breath, smiling, eyes filling with fondness.

"What?"

"Nothing, it's just been a long time since you've called me that. I missed it."

"Did you?" Bucky smiled. "You used to give me dagger eyes if I called you that in public."

The two felt happiness for how much Bucky was remembering with only a headache as a result. Thank you, T'Challa.

Steve laughed. "Not hearing it all those years really gave me an appreciation for it."

Bucky smiled.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Steve said. "I have a few things I want to give you. I won't give them to you until you're ready though."

Bucky frowned.

"Why do you keep saying shit like that?" He asked, brows furrowing.

Steve's eyes widened slightly.

"Like what?"

"Like 'if you're ready' and 'if you're okay with that.' You're treating me like glass, Steve."

Steve wanted to mention how familiar this conversation was, but decided against it.

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying not to overwhelm you, is all." Steve said, a bit hurt as he shifted away from the other man.

Bucky quickly reached out, grasping onto the fabric of Steve's lounge pants, keeping him close.

"Stop, _stop_ , why are you moving away from me?" Bucky asked, voice uncharacteristically unsteady. "I told you I wanted you close and I meant it, Steve. I need you _here_. Why do you keep dancing around me like I'm gonna break any second?"

 _Because I'm afraid you might_ , Steve thought.

Steve heard Bucky's voice become slightly frantic and hurt, breaking his heart.

Like this, their faces were closer, so Steve could easily see the frantic, sad look in his eyes. He looked down, unable to meet his eye for the first time since he woke up, looking at Bucky's hand still holding the fabric of his pants.

"You can't look at me now? What's going on with you?" Bucky asked, tightening his grip, the look in his eyes become increasingly desperate.

"Bucky, I'm sorry." Steve said, forcing himself to meet his eyes. "I didn't mean it, I swear. I'm just so happy to have you back, I'm trying so hard not to drive you away. I really can't bare to lose you again, I won't be able to handle it."

His grip loosened a bit.

"You don't think I feel the same way?" Bucky asked. "You fought for me for so long, but what if you decide I'm not what you want anymore? That I'm not who you went to school with or got your first apartment with or who carried you home after your parents died."

There were tears building at the rim of Bucky's eyelids, dangerously close to falling. Steve's not used to seeing him like this, so vulnerable. But Steve's had his fair share of vulnerability these past few weeks.

"I need you now more than ever and I'm scared that you'll realize that I wasn't worth all that trouble you went through and you won't want me anymore." Bucky whimpers softly and Steve's heart fucking shatters.

"I'm always gonna want you, Buck."

"You say that now." Bucky mumbles bitterly. Steve shook his head.

"Stop that." He brings his hands to hold either side of Bucky's face. "I'm always, always gonna want you, Bucky. I know you're not the same person, but you're still my Bucky and I still love you."

Bucky's eyes widen slightly, mouth parting a bit.

"You still love me?" He asked just above a whisper.

"Of course I do, Bucky. I never stopped. Never will."

"I...I love you too." Bucky breathed, then smiled as if he were proud of himself.

Steve leaned in, resting his forehead on Bucky's, sighing happily. They closed their eyes, breathing slowly.

"Say it again." Bucky whispered. Steve opened his eyes, but Bucky's were still closed.

"Please. I need to hear you say it again." Bucky whispered, sounding close to desperate.

"I love you." Steve whispered, further caressing the back of Bucky's neck, fingers tangled in his long hair. Bucky hummed pleasantly.

"Again."

"I love you so much, Bucky. With all I've got, always."

Bucky leaned back a bit, opening his eyes.

"Will you kiss me again, Steve?" He asked innocently, glancing down at his lips.

"What?" Steve asked, slightly taken aback by his request.

"I need you to kiss me. Please."

Steve knelt between Bucky's legs, sliding his hands from his face to wrap around his torso and looked up at Bucky, letting the other man come to him. They kissed slowly for a few long minutes, while the world slipped away. The hand Bucky was gripping Steve's pants, fearful that he'd fall away somehow, was now holding his cheek, deepening the kiss. The pace was the same, but the intensity was dragging them deeper and deeper into each other, swallowing the couple whole.

When they finally pulled back, they were breathless, lips shiny, eyes hazy.

"Wow." Steve mumbled as Bucky whispered,"Woah."

They chuckled, breath ghosting over each other's mouths.

"Forgot how good this felt." Bucky whispered.

"I'm happy to remind you." Steve smiled, leaning up for another chaste kiss.

Suddenly, Bucky's stomach growled loudly, causing Steve to laugh.

"Let me go see if the food is ready."

  
About five minutes later, Steve was trailing behind the chef, who pulled a cart of food. Steve sat beside Bucky again as the chef placed a few plates with silver covers onto their table with a smile.

"Konwabele ukutya kwakho." He said with a polite nod, before turning and walking away.

"I think he said 'enjoy your meal." Steve said, taking the lid off one of the plates and setting it aside, Bucky following his lead. Luckily, the table was large enough to make a stack of the lids and dig in.

Bucky stared down at the food in front of his, sighing happily.

He started with the burger. He picked it up, eyeing it for a short moment before taking a large bite. His eyes rolled back and closed as he chewed, his taste buds waking up all at once.

They ate their meal in comfortable silence, safe for the few times Steve would rub Bucky's back and diligently remind him not to eat so fast, before going back to his bowl of pasta. They stole a few bites from each other every few minutes, just like they used to. It was muscle memory, the way Bucky would nudge Steve and open his mouth for a forkful of pasta and the way Steve would do the same.

By the time Bucky finished his burger, fries and pizza, Steve had a bit of pasta left that he gave to him. Steve continued to watch him eat, smiling at the way he tried to keep his chewing to a respectable pace that wouldn't upset his stomach, sighing pleasantly every few seconds

  
Steve led Bucky to his bedroom when they finished eating. On his desk was the pile of things he used to occupy himself when Bucky was asleep. While he looked through them, the other man picked up a hoodie Steve had lying around. Making sure the blonde wasn't paying attention, he brought it to his nose, taking in its scent.

"Can I borrow this, Stevie?" He asked, holding it up for him to see.

"Yeah, of course, Buck," Steve said, dropping his things onto the bed before he sat beside them. "What's wrong with the one you're wearing right now?"

"It's not keeping me warm. And it's not very comfortable." Bucky said with a shrug before pulling the white hoodie over his head to replace it with Steve's gray one. It said _BROOKLYN_ in black, block letters across the front.

"I just remembered something." Bucky said, staring off, then looking at Steve. "I remember you wearing my clothes."

Steve smiled, folding his legs into a pretzel.

"Coming home and finding you in nothing but one of the button-up shirts I used to wear to church." Bucky said lowly, unintentionally. Steve blushed very lightly, looking down.

"They never fit properly, always hung off your shoulder and fell to your thighs. But now we're almost the same size. Not so small anymore, Stevie." Bucky smiled.

"Come sit with me." Steve invited, waving him over. Bucky kicked off the hospital shoes T'Challa gave him and climbed into the bed, resting against the many pillows.

"What's all this?" He asked.

"These are sketches I drew. This is a notebook of journal entries. They're mostly from me, but Sam and the guys wrote one each. Except Scott. He said his would be too awkward. And these are the books I read." Steve explained, pointing to each one. "I don't know where to start, so you can decide."

Steve seemed a bit nervous, Bucky noted. He scanned the items that seperated himself from Steve, before picking up the moleskin. He flipped through the pages curiously.

"I think I'll read these when I'm alone." Bucky decided, Steve nodded.

He put the notebook aside and reached for _Never Surrender_.

"This any good?" He asked. Steve shrugged.

"It's alright. I don't know if you'd like it though, doesn't seem like your style."

Bucky smiled at that, putting the book down. He may read it anyway, just to form his own opinion about it. He can do that now.

"Frankenstein?" Bucky smiled, holding the book in both hands this time. "Was this..."

"Your favorite book. We read it together the first time, but you kept reading it over and over after that. You loved it." Steve said.

"I wonder if I'd like it now. I don't remember the story very well, but I remember enjoying it, ya know?" Bucky said.

Steve nodded, then remembered he forgot something. He rummaged around his desk and brought it back to the bed with him, handing it to Bucky. It was wrapped in light brown paper, so it made a crinkling sound when he took it. The brunette eyed him, then the rectangular present.

"Go on, Buck, open it up." Steve encouraged, excitement glowing in his beautiful blue eyes.

Bucky tore at the paper little by little, revealing a copy of Frankenstein. It was beautiful. Red castle silhouette, lightning streaks.

"You loved this book when we were growing up, Buck. Sometime after I found out you were alive, I saw this at the store and thought of you. If you want to see if you still like it, you need your own copy, right? No more hand-me-downs." Steve laughed.

Bucky smiled, looking back down at the book. Steve got this for him. Steve wrapped this up and gave this to him, knowing that he'd want to read it to make sure he still felt the same about it. Steve knew he wouldn't want to use Steve's things and that he'd want his own, just to prove that he can still have his own things.

He looked up at Steve like he wanted to say something, but the words didn't form. So, instead, Bucky shifted closer to Steve, moving the other items aside so he could get their knees to touch. He hesitantly reached out to hold the side of Steve's neck and kiss him softly.

"Thank you, Steve." He said.

"It's my pleasure, Bucky." Steve said. The older man could feel Steve's hands on his sides through his hoodie. He pulled away and looked down at the other things.

"What else ya got for me, Rogers?" He said.

"Just these." Steve handed him the sketchbook.

Bucky smiled like he was a child and was just given candy, which made Steve's heart skip happily.

"I loved your art, Steve." Bucky flipped it open and looked up at him.

"Yeah, you did." Steve smiled.

"I'm remembering so much. 'ts like I never left." Bucky joked, kicking his socked foot out to nudge Steve's playfully. Steve was beaming.

Bucky looked down at the book in his lap, eyes meeting the first drawing. It's the one of Bucky sitting at the bar in his uniform, with his Tommy gun and glass of scotch.

Steve watched him smile down at the page. He nibbled at his bottom lip as he flipped the page. It was the one of Bucky in his combat uniform, in a squat, sniper rifle to his eye. Each side of Bucky's mouth faltered just a tad.

"Is this really what I looked like?" Bucky asked, looking up at Steve.

"Give or take, yeah." He nodded. "There's one or two more of you like that. I was gonna take them out and just show you the others, but going off of what you said earlier-"

"It's okay, Steve." Bucky said, looking back down at the drawing. "It looks really good. It's weird. But it's good."

Steve smiled a bit, snaking his hands under where Bucky had the sketchbook in his lap and just stayed there. Let his hands lightly grip Bucky's thighs, transferring some of his body heat to him. He trusted that Bucky would speak up if he wanted him to stop or move away or anything.

Bucky sighed at the touch, closing his eyes briefly to concentrate on the heat of his hands. It felt like his body was still frozen, like his bones were still in the process of thawing, so he welcomed the heat and the touch gratefully.

He flipped the page, revealing the drawing of Bucky before he went into cryo. The one where he was sitting on the bed in his white pants and shirt, one arm and a wide smile. Bucky hummed, smiling.

"You weren't smiling this big that day, but I wanted to draw it." Steve explained.

"Guess you really missed these pearly whites, huh?" Bucky jokes, flashing Steve a wide, toothy smile. He laughed, shaking his head.

"I did, Buck." Steve said.

Bucky turned to the next page, finding three loose four by four pieces of paper, each one of a different side profile of him. The first one was Bucky during the war, with his hair combed back and symbol on his left coat arm. He smiled widely at it, as Steve predicted. The second one was Bucky with the black mask on and hair long enough to touch his shoulders. Bucky tilted his head slightly.

"They put the mask on me to hide my identity," Bucky explained slowly. "But mostly so I wouldn't talk. So I wouldn't ask questions about anything, so I'd just finish the mission and go right back into cryo."

Bucky's eyes never moved from the paper. Steve felt his body tense up under his hands, so he slowly rubbed the area of his thighs.

"You won't ever have to wear it again, Buck. No one's gonna make you wear anything or do anything you don't feel comfortable doing, okay?" Steve said, voice barely over a whisper. Bucky looked up at him, eyes borderline frantic, but slowly returning to adoration. He nodded, smiling a bit then dropping it.

Bucky looked down at the final side profile drawing. The one of Bucky in a white tank top, looking calm and peaceful with his eyes shut and a close-mouthed smile. Bucky felt his shoulders loosening as he scanned his eyes over the drawing, feeling Steve's hands rub over his thighs some more.

"The next ones I drew today, while you were in surgery." Steve said. "Wanda and Clint got me talking about how much you didn't like the winter, so I drew you in each season."

Bucky turned the page and smiled a bit. It was him laying in a field of flowers, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. The next page was him sitting in the sand of a beach watching the waves, wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts, topped off with a pair of sunglasses. The page after that was him wearing a hoodie and jeans, sitting under a tree whose leaves were on the ground around him. The following page was Bucky has his hands in his pockets, wearing a coat, scarf and boots. His face looked a bit grumpy as snow fell around him into small hills, some landing in his hair.

Bucky laughed softly at the expression on his face.

"The next page is the biggest one. It took me the longest too. I wasn't sure I wanted you to see it, even while I was drawing it, but..." Steve shrugged.

He didn't really know why he wanted Bucky to see it. It could be that little bit of selfishness in him that wanted so badly for Bucky to keep smiling at his sketches and looking at him like he was the most talented man he's ever met.

"Is it me? Again?" Bucky smiled softly, earning one from Steve.

"Yeah, Buck, it is." Steve scooted closer, if that were possible. "It's, um, you in cryo. While you were asleep, I didn't know what else to draw so..."

Bucky looked back down and turned the page.

Steve was right. It was the biggest one out of each drawing. It took up the entirety of the large page, filling out every corner and edge. And it was _beautiful_. After getting passed the fact that it was himself, frozen and asleep, Bucky found himself slowly developing a liking for the way Steve used his pencils, the soft shading, the hard lines, the feeling of being able to touch the paper and be touching a real glass.

"Wow," Bucky breathed, running his fingers over the corner of the page.

Steve was holding his breath, waiting.

"What do you think?" Steve asked, growing more and more impatient.

"It's incredible, Steve, it's...wow." Bucky mumbled.

He looked up at the other man and there was that look. The look that made Steve want to keep drawing, the look that made him fall more and more in love with Bucky.

"I still love your drawings. All of them. Especially this one. Didn't know you could get even better at it." Bucky smiled.

"Well, I had someone to inspire me." Steve smiled, leaning closer to Bucky's face.

  
Steve was requested at the clinic wing of the mansion minutes later. T'Challa needed to run a few more tests and ask a few questions to further approach his anxiety that Bucky knew nothing about. Steve told Bucky it'd be best if he went alone so he wouldn't be overwhelmed by the noise and people. Bucky agreed, settling back into the pillows and blankets.

"Are you going to be alright by yourself?" Steve asked, slipping his feet into his sneakers.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. It'll give me time to read this." Bucky said, picking up the moleskin notebook.

"Okay." Steve smiled and gave Bucky a soft kiss, before he was off.

While Steve was gone, Bucky read every entry. He read about how much Steve wanted to see his eyes. How much he loved the way Bucky would look at him when he looked at his new drawings. About how they might be better off in a century that was more accepting, a century where they could be together. What Steve did while he was waiting for Bucky and what he wants to do when he's finally out. Steve's anxiety attack. Bathing together.

With each one, he felt his heart clench tighter and tighter, fighting the urge to cry. Was he really about to fucking cry right now? He doesn't even remember the last time he cried. But he felt like he just might if he had to read another one of Steve's letters.

Luckily, the next few letters were from Sam, Wanda and Clint.

Each of them wrote about how much he means to Steve and how they're rooting for them or something or another. Sam wrote that Steve talks about Bucky like he hung the stars. Now that he thinks about it, Steve has been looking at him like that since the second he saw him after waking up.

Wanda wrote about the colors he wore. She mentioned how they might have been friends in a passed life, which makes Bucky smile. He couldn't figure out why, but he felt a bit of a connection between himself and Wanda from the moment he met her. He didn't know if he believed in reincarnation but now that he and Wanda will be spending more time together, he's sure that she'll make him into a believer.

Next up was Clint's entry. He wrote about his best friend and how he'd do anything to keep her safe, like Steve was doing for him. He rolled his eyes playfully at the comment about his vocabulary.

The very last entry was from Steve, while he was waiting for Bucky's surgery to finish. He wrote about how much he liked Bucky during the winter and how much Bucky hated it. How he'd stay home more often when it was cold out because Bucky didn't want him getting sick again. The last sentence was about how Steve didn't need his body heat, but he still wanted it. Bucky thought about how much Bucky needed Steve's now.

He flipped to the first page and re-read each letter again.

Some things felt backwards now, other things felt the same. But almost everything felt different. The only thing that didn't seem to change was Steve. Steve was Bucky's constant in a sea of variables, pushing against the current no matter what. And for _Bucky_.

By the time Bucky heard footsteps coming closer and closer to the door, he had read each letter three times. Tears were swelling in his eyes, returning each time he blinked them away.

A few soft knocks sounded against the door before it opened, but Bucky was already on his feet, closing the space between himself and Steve. When their eyes met, Steve's were confused.

"Buck?" He said just before Bucky pulled him into a deep kiss, wrapping his arm around his neck to hold him close.

When they pulled away, Bucky spoke before Steve could get a single word out.

"I love you, Steve." He said hurriedly. "I loved you then and I love you now and I want you to know that."

The grip Steve had around Bucky's body tightened.

"I love you too, Bucky. Always."

"I was hesitant when I woke up because I didn't know if we would follow the same pattern like before all of this happened. I didn't know how much of how you felt for me back then was still there, but from reading all those letters, Steve, I..." Bucky trailed off, becoming desperate.

"I love you." He whispered, a single tear running down his face as the water that gathered in his eyes finally overflowed. More followed suit quickly as Steve rose one hand to wipe them away.

"I love you, Bucky. I love you so much." Steve whispered, his own eyes beginning to swell with tears.

Bucky buried his face into Steve's warm neck and breathed in his scent. His warmth immediately enveloped his body, causing him to sigh and unravel against the other man. Steve sat them down where they stood without letting go or loosening his grip. He held Bucky in his lap, stroking his hand up and down his broad, muscular back while the other ran its fingers through his long brown hair.

When they were both slipping from reality, Bucky slowly lifted his head a bit.

"Can we go see the others?" He asked quietly.

"Sure, Buck."

  
The first person they found was Scott. He was reading a book, looking bored.

"Hey, Scott." Steve said. When he looked up, he immediately became a bit nervous.

"Hey, guys" He said.

"No need to be nervous, man, but I was wondering why I didn't get a letter from you. Everyone else wrote me one." Bucky said, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"Okay, see, about that, so, I'm not good with words. Like at all. Sorry, man, I-"

"I'm only messing with you." Bucky chuckled. He reached out, patting the other man's shoulder almost awkwardly then retreated.

"Next time letters are being written though, better see one from you."

Scott laughed and nodded.

"For sure."

  
They found Wanda and Clint in the movie room, arguing over what to watch next.

"Clint, we watched that back at the compound like two months ago." Wanda said, taking the touch screen remote from him.

"So? It's good enough to watch again." He argued.

"Are we interrupting?" Steve asked, chuckling.

They both turned their heads at the same time.

"Nope. Clint was just getting us a snack." Wanda smirked, glancing back at him. He rolled his eyes and stood up, making his way to the exit. Steve laughed and sat down next to Wanda.

"Uh, before you go Clint, I wanted to say thank you. Ya know, for the letter you wrote. I really appreciate everything you've done for Steve and for me." Bucky said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

"Don't sweat it, dude. You're one of us now." Clint smiled.

"Is Kate one of 'us' too?" He asked.

"Nah, she's kind of doing her own thing. She's more of a solo kind of gal." Bucky nodded, understanding.

"Hey, do you want anything from the kitchen?" Clint asked.

"No, I'm good, thanks." Bucky said.

"Okay good, I was only being polite, I'm not good at balancing things, just shooting things. Maybe that's why Kate's the-"

"Better, cooler Hawkeye?" Bucky smiled. Clint laughed, giving his shoulder a pat before leaving the room.

While Bucky and Clint were talking Wanda asked Steve how everything was going.

"Better than I expected." Steve smiled.

"How so?"

"When we were in the kitchen, I was trying to give him space, but he got upset with me and told me that he wanted me close. He keeps kissing me and remembering things." Steve was practically glowing.

Wanda smiled widely.

"Steve, that's amazing. I thought it'd take a few days, but..." She shook her head in disbelief. "Wow."

Steve looked up at Bucky talking to Clint.

"He liked all my drawings too. I was nervous he wouldn't like the last one I showed you guys, the big one?"

Wanda nodded.

"But he loved it. You should have seen the look on his face, it was...more than I could have asked for."

"Did he read the journal entries yet?" She asked.

"Yeah, he read them while I was at the clinic. The second I walked back into my room, he was on me, kissing me and hugging me, I thought my heart was literally going to burst."

Steve cringed softly, looking away. "I sound like a school girl or something."

"Oh, stop, Steve," Wanda shook his arm gently. "It'd be hard for anyone to not act like this when he looks like that. Plus he's literally wearing you clothes." She laughed.

Steve looked at Bucky, smiling.

"You finally have him back, don't hold any of that stuff you're feeling for him inside. He obviously feels the same way."

"It's just been such a long time."

"Lost time you can now make up for." Wanda smiled as Steve did.

Bucky sat on the other side of Wanda, gaining her attention.

"Hey, Wanda." Bucky said softly, shyly.

"Hey, Bucky. How are you?" She asked, shifting so she was facing him.

"I'm good. My head still hurts a little bit. And I'm getting tired quickly, which is so weird." Bucky said.

"T'Challa said that'd be normal though, right?" She asked. He nodded.

"Yeah, he said my body still needs to finish getting used to being awake on a normal schedule."

"So Steve tells me you read the journal entries." She said.

"I did. Thank you for yours. And everything you've done for me." He said. "I'm sorry about Pietro."

"Thank you." She said kindly.

"What do you think he came back as? A woman like he wanted to?"

Wanda laughed, thinking back to her letter. She nodded.

"Maybe so."

"What would you like to come back as?" Bucky asked.

"Probably a man, since Pietro's choice was a woman. But it sounds kind of disgusting." She grimaces a bit.

The men on either side of her burst into laughter.

"It'd be pretty hard to pull of those knee socks if you were a man. Clint put them on once." Steve said to Bucky, cringing. "Not a very pleasant sight."

  
Sam was in the gym room. He was bench pressing some weights, so Steve stood near his head and leaned forward to look down at him.

"You're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing this without a spotter, Wilson." Steve said. Sam chuckled, putting the weights back on their rail and sitting up.

"Hey, bird." Bucky said.

"Hey, dude, how you holdin' up?" He asked, using a cloth to wipe the bit of sweat from his face.

"Good." Bucky said. "I just wanted to come by really quick and thank you."

"For what?" He asked.

"I read the letter you wrote."

"Ah, jeez, don't tell me you're about to get all gushy on me, Barnes." Sam joked.

"Oh no- god, no." He laughed. "I'm not real good at expressing myself, especially not these days, but it really meant a lot to me, the stuff you guys wrote. And everything you did to help Steve help me. So thank you." Bucky said.

Sam stood to his feet, standing in front of Bucky.

"You're a pain in the ass, Barnes. But everything Steve has said about you has been true so far. So I don't regret getting my ass thrown in jail." Sam smiled.

He put his hand out for Bucky to shake and he took it, thankfully.

  
Bucky didn't start to get sleepy until midnight. He and Steve were getting lost in T'Challa's mansion for a good few hours, talking and laughing as they did. It felt so good. It was beginning to feel like Bucky had never left and the large chunks of their lives were never taken.

Bucky yawned every few minutes and when Steve counted four, he led them back toward the bedrooms.

"Do you want me to show you to your room, Buck?" He asked.

"My room?" Bucky asked.

"Yeah, it's right next to mine, so you can come over whenever you want." Steve explained.

"Can't I just...stay with you tonight?" Bucky asked softly.

"Of course, Buck. I just don't want you to feel like I'm smothering you or anything."

"If I ever need some time alone, it's right next door?" Bucky asked.

"Yep, right next door." Steve said. Bucky smiled and nodded.

"When I was with HYDRA...I would remember things here and there. Most of them were reoccurring, but something would always slip through the cracks of their training." Bucky's hands were in his pockets again, head tilted toward the floor. Steve listened patiently, wondering what made him bring this up.

"Ya know what memories always seemed to make its way through?" Bucky looked up at Steve.

"What?"

"Being in bed with you." Bucky said and Steve could have sworn his eyes were twinkling now. "I remember our bed was the only place we could really... _be_ , right?"

"Right, Buck." Steve said quietly.

"I remember...watching you sleep. And holding you. Sometimes tickling you or teasing you."

Bucky thought of the times things were a little more heated, but didn't mention them. He couldn't help but yearn for those moments too, though.

"I didn't know who you were, but the memories felt so...comforting. Do you remember?" Bucky asked. Steve nodded, welcoming yet another wave of nostalgia.

"Yeah. I also remember begging each other to stay in bed. When you worked at the docks, you'd leave early in the morning and I'd be so reluctant to let you leave. And when you worked at the grocery store, I would be the one who had to leave first to catch my shift at the newsstand and you'd just about beg me to stay in bed with you."

Talking about these moments warmed Bucky's heart so much it spread throughout his body and he almost forgot how cold he was.

"I would want you to stay even more during the winter. You always kept me warm when my body couldn't." Steve chuckled.

"Do you think you could keep me warm tonight instead?" Bucky asked hesitantly. "Haven't felt warm since I woke up unless you were touching me."

Steve reached for his hand, slotting his fingers between Bucky's.

"Definitely, Buck."

When they made it back to Steve's room, Bucky kicked his shoes off, setting them aside, wondering how they were going to sleep, thinking of how he _wanted_ to sleep. He looked at Steve.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." Bucky said. "I just...I want, um..."

"What is it, pal? You can tell me anything." Steve said, stepping closer to hold his hand against Bucky's side.

"I wanna...feel you. I want you close. To me." He said softly, then breathed,"Can we do that?"

"Yes, Buck, we can do whatever you want, just say the word." Steve said, much to Bucky's delight. "Do you want me to turn the temperature up, would that help?"

"Probably not. It's not the temperature that's making me cold, it's like...inside?" Bucky tried to explain. "I feel like I haven't finished defrosting and my bones are still frozen. Does that even make sense?"

"Yeah, Buck, it makes sense. I got you, alright?" Steve said.

Bucky nodded and crawled onto the bed, still wearing his sweater and sweatpants. Steve followed suit after sliding his shoes off too, since he was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Bucky wanted Steve to take his shirt off and he wanted to take his own shirt off so he could _feel_ Steve. He wanted skin on skin, to get as close as possible, but he was so _cold_. And then again, he wasn't sure if he was ready to see Steve unclothed yet.

"How do you want to do it? Do you want to be facing toward me or away from me?" Steve asked, laying beside Bucky.

"What did I like before?" Bucky asked.

"Both ways, really. On cold nights though, you'd specifically like to be face-to-face."

"Can I see which one I like better?"

Steve nodded, adjusting himself so Bucky could fit against his chest however he'd like. Bucky smiled a little bit, turning his back toward the blonde and shifting closer so Steve could hold him against his chest. He was warm, so warm against his back, but the front of his body was still cold. So before Steve could get a proper grip on him, he was turning around to face Steve, curling into him. Steve wrapped his arms around him, bringing him closer. Bucky sighed heavily, but it came out as a soft, breathy moan. Steve's heart was fluttering so much he was sure it was going to fall down his rib cage.

Bucky lifted his head to meet Steve's eyes and smiled sleepily.

"Kiss me?" He whispered.

"As you wish." Steve smiled and leaned in, kissing Bucky softly and sweetly.

"I see why I liked this." Bucky mumbled when they pulled away. He nuzzled back into Steve's chest.

"I was beginning to forget how it felt. I don't ever wanna forget how it feels to hold you like this, Buck." Steve whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, took a while to write. i like this fic but i'm not sure if i want to continue with it :(
> 
> also, bucky in steve's sweaters? bucky being the little spoon? bucky needing steve's body heat? uhhhh, hell yeah.
> 
> LEAVE A COMMENT, KIDS


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